


Mutual Pain

by SpenceRose



Series: Between Us [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 22,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpenceRose/pseuds/SpenceRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian and John had met a year after Sherlock’s and Moriarty’s deaths. They had met on the very same rooftop that had taken the geniuses from them. It had seemed rather fitting that Sebastian had a gun as he sat on the ledge and John had come to jump off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John tapped the table and looked at the door for what must have been the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. He took a sip of water and his hand went to his pocket, wrapping around the ring box. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to try and calm himself. 

“You alright there, soldier?” a familiar voice said. A grin spread across John's face as he opened his eyes and looked at the man sitting across from him. 

“I'm fine, Sebastian,” he replied. Sebastian smiled and folded his hands in a nervous habit. “You're late.”

“I got caught up with something,” he said. “They tried to stop me from quitting.”

Sebastian and John had met a year after Sherlock’s and Moriarty’s deaths. They had met on the very same rooftop that had taken the geniuses from them. It had seemed rather fitting that Sebastian had a gun as he sat on the ledge and John had come to jump off. 

After talking, they began seeing more of each other. It was Sebastian who asked John out first. After that, things fell into place. Sebastian had agreed to quit his job as an assassin and John spent more time at Sebastian's flat than 221B. It all had led up to this moment right now. 

“I can't imagine that was very good,” John said. He fingered the ring box and took another deep breathe. 

“Anyway, you said there was something you wanted to ask me?” Sebastian asked, a bit of hope glittering in his eyes. John loved that expression. Sebastian rarely had it but those few times made John absolutely giddy inside, a feeling that he had lost after Sherlock's fall. 

“Yes,” John said, pulling the box out of his pocket. “Sebastian, you and I get on great and I feel…”

“Good evening, monsieurs,” a waiter said as he appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Both men exchanged frustrated looks. “Can I interest you in a bottle of our very best wine?”

“No,” John said shortly. Sebastian twirled his glass in his fingers and shrugged before holding it up. The waiter filled it and turned back to John. 

“I must insist, sir,” he said. “It reminds you of someone. Like a face right from the past.”

John rubbed his forehead tiredly and Sebastian watched him with a mix between amusement and his own annoyance. 

“He said he's fine so leave, pal,” he said. The waiter paused and there was a brief moment where they both thought that he would leave. Then he knocked over a cup of water that splashed over John's lap. He jumped to his feet and turned to the waiter, intent on yelling. The words were caught in his throat when he saw his face. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered. 

“Hello, John,” Sherlock smiled. Suddenly, John's fist connected with his nose and Sebastian was on his feet to wrap his arms around John's waist to keep him from lunging at the man. 

“John, hey, not here,” he whispered. “Wait, okay? No use causing a scene.”

John slowly calmed down and a man came over, telling them they had to leave. Sebastian kept a tight grip around John as he led him out and Sherlock followed them slowly.

Once they were outside, Sebastian let go of John and crossed his arms as he yelled at Sherlock. 

“Three bloody years, Sherlock!” he screamed. “I mourned you, we all did, and now you just come waltzing back into my life? I don't think so!”

“John, you have to hear me out,” Sherlock insisted. 

“No I don't!” John snapped. “You left me and now I want you to bloody stay gone!”

He stormed off and Sebastian studied Sherlock with a sad expression. 

“You faked your death,” he stated. Sherlock looked over at him and looked him over, assessing who he was in an instant. 

“He’s dead,” he said gruffly and turned away. Sebastian sighed and followed John. He caught up and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. 

“That bloody idiot,” John mumbled. “He thinks that he can just come back and everything would be fine.”

“You’ve dreamed about this day, John,” Sebastian said. He kissed John’s temple and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I know because I’ve dreamed about Jim coming back.”

John’s breath caught in his throat and he stopped walking. Sebastian looked at him curiously and John took his hands in his. They were quiet for a moment as John stared at their hands. He slowly looked up and met Sebastian’s eyes. 

“This doesn't change anything,” he stated, squeezing his hands. “I still love you, Sebastian. Nothing will change that.”

“I love you too, John,” he said. “but I know that you want to be with him now.”

“No, I want to be with you,” he said. He let go and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the ring box and presented it to Sebastian. “This isn't how I wanted to do it but I would love for you to marry me, Colonel.”

Sebastian stared at the box and took it, opening it to reveal a simple gold band. He looked at John and smiled. 

“It would be an honor, Captain,” he said. John smiled wider than he had in a long time. Sebastian pulled him into a kiss and it was good. What they had was good. 

They both knew the other's heart didn't belong to them. They belonged to two very stubborn, insufferable geniuses. They made do. They had let themselves fall into what couldn't be called love but a mutual need to be with someone who knew their struggles. 

No, it wasn't love that kept them together. John realized that when he had seen Sherlock and he knew Sebastian knew it too. 

It was their pain.


	2. Chapter 2

John couldn't fall asleep that night. Instead, he was pacing in the living room of Sebastian’s flat. His mind was moving quickly and he didn't notice Sebastian was up until his arms wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes and placed his hands over Sebastian’s, allowing himself to he lost in the feeling of someone holding him. 

“John, I know you're thinking of him,” he whispered into John's hair. Tears pricked John's eyes and he turned and buried his face in Sebastian’s chest. “You need to talk to him. I'm sure he has a good reason for doing it.”

Join found himself unable to speak. He just let the tears fall and Sebastian felt him shaking from holding in sobs. 

“Three years,” he finally muttered. “Three bloody years and he just comes back without so much as a hint that he's alive. Who does he bloody think he is?”

Sebastian didn't say anything and a tear slid down his cheek. He didn't yell at John for being a fool and staying here when he should be back at Baker Street with Sherlock. Instead, his grip tightened around the doctor and they stood like that for a long while. 

“John, I want you to listen to me,” he finally said, holding him at arm's length. John stared St him and nodded. “Call him. See what he has to say.”

John hesitated and nodded slowly. He knew Sherlock would be up. Of course he would, he's Sherlock bleeding Holmes. He took his phone and called the number he had never really deleted. When Sherlock picked up, the sound of his voice brought fresh tears to his eyes. 

“John,” Sherlock said, like he was saying a prayer. 

“Sherlock,” he said, voice cracking. “We need to talk.”

“Tomorrow?” Sherlock suggested. “You can come to Baker Street.”

“Alright,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He didn't want to hang up just yet. He felt the comforting weight of Sebastian’s hand on his bicep. “I just… tomorrow. Get some sleep, Sherlock.”

“You too,” was the reply. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

John was grateful for that reassurance. He didn't think he could handle anything else. He hung up and allowed Sebastian to lead him to bed. He stared blankly ahead and curled up around himself. It was only when he realized that Sebastian hadn't moved that he looked up. 

“Are you coming to be?” he asked. Sebastian hesitated and shook his head. 

“Nah, I need to do something,” he stated, not looking at John. “I'll be right back.”

John curled back up and Sebastian slipped out of the room. He walked down the hall to a room and opened the door. 

The room wasn't as plain as the rest of the flat. A few posters lined the blue walls and a desk was neatly tucked into one corner, organized so nicely it could make a person cry. The bed was made, not a wrinkle or crease in the fabric. Under the pillow was a gun, one that Sebastian had become increasingly acquainted with during the year after Moriarty’s death. 

Sebastian looked around the room and felt his chest tighten. He walked to the desk and looked down at the phone on it. His work phone. The one he had been given specifically to receive his jobs. There hadn't been any received phone calls on it since that day. Jim had called that day just before Sherlock had gone onto the roof. Sebastian could remember the conversation with frightening clarity. 

_ “What’s wrong, boss?” he asked, eyes trained on the slim figure through his scope. He heard a slight chuckle. _

_ “Nothing is wrong, tiger,” Moriarty said in that infuriatingly airy way he usually reserved for his clients. “I just wanted to make sure you knew the plan.” _

_ “We’ve gone over it six times, sir,” Sebastian sighed. There was a pause.  _

_ “Tell me again, Seb,” he said.  _

_ “I am to watch the conversation between you and Holmes. If he doesn’t jump, I’m to shoot Dr. Watson,” he recited. “After that, I bring the car to pick you up.” _

_ “Very good, Sebby,” he said and there was a slight strain to his voice. “You’re good at what you do, tiger. It’s an honor to have you working for me.” _

_ Sebastian’s heart quickened. He recognized that tone. He’d heard it in soldier’s who thought they were going to die.  _

_ “Jim, this sounds like a goodbye,” he said. There was no reply. “Jim? Boss?” _

_ “Sherlock’s coming, tiger,” he said. “I have to go.” _

_ He hung up and Sebastian was on his feet. He tried to call him back but his boss wasn’t answering, letting that awful ringtone play. He probably thought it added drama. _

_ The gunshot haunted Sebastian’s dreams. _

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow of tears. He sat at the desk and put his head in his hands. He looked down at the black flip phone and picked it up. He clicked the only number in the contacts and held it to his ear. The message tone played and he choked back a sob.

“Hey, boss. Been a few weeks. I thought I should tell you, John and I are engaged. He asked and I accepted. Nice ring. He tried to ask me over a fancy dinner but Sherlock showed up. Yeah, the bastard is still alive. I don’t know how. He jumped of a bloody roof. John punched him,” he chuckled. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breathe. “If you’re faking too, you better have a bloody good reason. I won’t be nearly as accepting as John. A phone call or text or something would be nice.”

He hung up and put it back on the desk. He put his face back in his hands and took another breath. The phone rang and  _ Eye of the Tiger _ blared through the room. He jumped and scrambled to grab it. He looked at the text and his heart stopped. 

_ Congratulations, Tiger. xo JM. _


	3. Chapter 3

John stared at the door. He thought back to how empty it had felt just two days ago. The silence had been maddening and yet here he was and he was going to walk in and Sherlock was going to be sitting in his chair with his fingers steepled as he thought. John almost broke down right there. Sebastian was standing behind him, jaw set and eyes dead.

“You have to go in,” he said. John nodded and looked up at the windows. He saw Sherlock staring at him and he blinked a few times. Finally he walked forward and opened the door. He glanced back at Sebastian to see he hadn’t moved.

“Are you coming in?” he asked. Sebastian glanced up and then shook his head.

“You two need to talk without me there,” he said. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

John nodded and went up the steps. Sherlock was waiting for him. He was facing the door with an expression that looked both hesitant and ecstatic. John felt more tears and walked up to Sherlock. He brought his hand back like he was going to punch him again and Sherlock just held his eyes.

“You bloody idiot,” he said, letting his hand drop. “I saw you... I checked your pulse. How…”

“You’re a smart man, John,” Sherlock said. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

John shook his head.

“I doubt I ever will,” he said. Sherlock shrugged and looked around. He walked around the flat and John watched him, half waiting to wake up and this all to be a dream.

“I see you haven’t moved out,” he said, placing a hand on the back of John’s chair.

“It’s a good flat,” John said. Sherlock arched an eyebrow.

“You haven’t slept here in weeks, John,” he stated. John shrugged and looked away.

“I’ve been staying with Sebastian,” he said. “We both think it’s better not to have an empty flat.”

“Yes, Moran,” Sherlock muttered, looking incredibly peeved at the thought. “Why him of all people?”

“He’s a good man,” John frowned.

“John, he worked for Moriarty. He’s killed people,” Sherlock frowned, crossing his arms.

“People change, Sherlock,” he said. Sherlock opened his mouth and he held up his hand, making Sherlock fall silent. “I don’t care what you say, Sherlock. I love Sebastian and I’m going to marry him. End of story.”

“You’re going to marry him?” Sherlock frowned, looking slightly hurt.

“Yes,” John said, ignoring the expression on Sherlock’s face. “I was going to propose at the restaurant when I was interrupted. Then I proposed on the way home while I was still pissed at you.”

“Do you love him, John?” Sherlock asked. John looked away and Sherlock took a step forward. “John?”

“Yes, Sherlock. I love him,” he finally said.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Sherlock asked. John hesitated.

“You,” he said finally, crossing his arms. “I’m trying to convince you.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Why didn’t he come in?” He asked.

“He said we should talk alone,” John replied. Sherlock glanced out the window and then back at John.

“Bring him up here. I want to speak with him,” he said. John frowned for a moment before nodding. He went out the door and Sherlock looked back out the window.

Sebastian was leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips. He drew the smoke into his lungs and pulled it away to exhale. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket warily.

_Smoking is bad for you, Tiger. xo JM._

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he started coughing violently. He dropped the cigarette and texted the number back. He looked around, trying to determine where Jim could be.

“Sebastian? Are you okay?”

He looked over at John and blinked a few times. He nodded and glanced back around.

“I'm fine,” he said, looking back at John. He smiled a little shakily. “How'd it go?”

John smiled a little as Sebastian wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“He hasn't changed,” John said. “and yet… he has at the same time.”

Sebastian smiled and pressed a kiss to John's temple. They both felt odd and that this was wrong and yet they were still clinging to each other.

“He wants to speak with you,” John said. Sebastian looked down at him in surprise.

“Me? Why?” He asked. John worried at his lip with his teeth and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t bother to ask.”

Sebastian’s lip quirked up and he shook his head.

“Best not keep him waiting then, yeah?” he said. John looked up at him in surprise.

“You really want to?” he asked. “I mean…”

“Yes, John, I really want to,” Sebastian said. He rook John’s hand and brought it up to place a kiss to the back of it. “We should at least try to get along.”

John smiled and kissed Sebastian’s cheek. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve a man like Sebastian but he was thankful nonetheless. He led Sebastian into the flat and found Sherlock standing by the window.

He’d been watching them, Sebastian specifically. He was looking for hints that Sebastian had any ill intentions with Sebastian but there was none he could find. He couldn’t tell if he was happy for John or upset with the discovery. Now the man stood in front of him and he let himself look over him. There was nothing to indicate that he didn’t love John and yet a firm feeling sat in Sherlock’s stomach that something was not right.

“Sebastian,” he said, moving forward with his hand extended. They shook hands, a genuine smile on Sebastian’s face. It was small; the smile probably stemming from the fact that the man had his hand intertwined with John’s rather than meeting Sherlock.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sherlock,” Sebastian said, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He stopped and Sherlock saw the corner of John’s mouth twitch down. They hadn’t talked about him often then. Had Sebastian heard things from Moriarty then? It was completely possible.

“I’m sure you have,” Sherlock smirked. Sebastian looked down uncomfortably. “I must say that it is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Sebastian nodded, still avoiding eye contact, and Sherlock hesitated for a moment.

“John, might we have a moment?” Sherlock asked, looking at the smaller man. John raised an eyebrow and looked between them.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll go make some tea.”

He went to the kitchen and Sherlock paused, watching him and then turning back to Sebastian.

“I would like to thank you,” he said and Sebastian looked at him in surprise, finally meeting his eyes.

“Thank me? For what?” he asked.

“For taking care of John,” Sherlock said. “I neglected to consider what my death would do to him but… I realize now, had it not been for you, he probably wouldn’t have been here to punch me.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. A soft smile spread across his face. “He’s great. He’s really helped me with…” he paused and looked away quickly. “Everything.”

“He tends to do that,” Sherlock muttered. He looked at Sebastian and shook his head. “No matter. You two are engaged. I believe there is a wedding to be planned.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was quiet throughout the flat, the only sound being the crackling of fire. Sherlock and John sat in their respective chairs, a comfortable silence stretching across them. Sebastian had gone home just an hour prior at John’s insistence when he had nearly fallen asleep on the couch. He’d given John a kiss, wished Sherlock a goodnight, and left without saying a thing against John staying there. He understood the reasons and John would forever be grateful for that.

“I’m glad that you and Sebastian get along,” he commented. The corner of Sherlock’s lip twitched ever so slightly.

“I’d say it was more that we reached an agreement,” he stated. John lifted an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

“Your happiness.”

John looked up at him to see that small loving smile that used to send his heart racing. Now there was nothing but a small dull ache. He looked away again quickly and swallowed thickly. His mind was racing. He thought of the past three years and that day that seemed so much farther away now that Sherlock sat in front of him again. He blinked back sudden tears and met Sherlock’s eyes once more.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked voice not nearly as even as he had wanted it to appear. Sherlock’s eyes filled with such intense emotion that John physically gasped as he glanced between them. Sherlock was the first to look away, looking around the flat and settling his gaze at the yellow smiling face. The silence was suddenly thick and Sherlock felt as though he might choke on it.

“Why I did it is of no importance,” he said with his voice wavering. If John hadn’t grown accustomed to Sherlock’s many mannerisms, he would have missed the way his voice was drawn tight and his hands shook ever so slightly. “That was three years ago and I’m sure neither of us wish to relive it.”

He was right, as always. John had no wish to relive that day. He wanted to forget it and move on but found himself hanging onto it. He had no idea as to why he was and he shook the odd sense off, instead turning back to his friend -his best friend- and the statement forming on his lips before he could even think to stop it. Not that he wanted to.

“So, for the wedding,” he said carefully. “I’ll need a best man.”

Sherlock frowned, still not looking at John as he thought.

“Gavin?” he offered. At John’s blank look, he continued. “Gavin Lestrade. He’s a man and good at it.”

“Okay, first it’s _Greg_ ,” John said, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees. “Second, he isn’t my best friend.”

Another frown creased Sherlock’s mouth as he thought again.

“Mike Stamford?” he asked, looking down at his thoughts as he

“I want you to be my best man,” he said. Sherlock’s reaction was instantaneous. He rounded to look at John, his mouth opened to say something, and… he froze. John blinked for a moment at him and slowly furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh, Sherlock?”

No response. John could practically see the thoughts whizzing about Sherlock’s head and he felt as though it would have been appropriate if smoke started coming out his ears.

“That’s getting a bit scary now,” John muttered. Finally, it seemed that Sherlock’s brain cleared and he blinked rapidly for a moment.

“So, in fact,” he began, his words coming falteringly and unsure. “You-you mean…”

“Yes.”

“I’m your…” he said, furrowing his eyebrows like he was struggling over a rather difficult. “Best…”

“Man,” John said and at the near same time Sherlock said, “Friend.”

John gave him a surprised look and nodded, smiling gently.

“Yeah, course you are,” he said. “Course you’re my best friend.”

Sherlock nodded and blinked a few more times. He shook his head and returned John’s soft smile. John considered him his best friend. Suddenly, the horrors of the last three years felt a lot less potent.

Sebastian, unfortunately, was having a much more rough time that night. He was curled in the bed, eyes closed tightly and jaw clenched. He hadn’t had nightmares since John had practically moved in and yet here he was, his mind filled with the ghastly images that always made his heart ache for the person he had long since thought dead. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or terrified at the prospect of it just being a trick.

The phone sat on the nightstand next to the bed and he turned to look at it, somehow willing it to ring. It didn’t and Sebastian tried to convince himself that it wasn’t disappointment that was curling its way into his chest. It was far too quiet for his taste, by now used to John’s quiet snores or occasional nonsensical muttering. He missed it.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he shouted as he sat up in the bed. He threw the blanket off and got out of the bed, stalking to the kitchen. He opened the fridge to grab a beer but paused when he heard something. It sounded like… keys? Someone trying to unlock the door?

He checked the time. Half past one. Surely it couldn’t be John? He froze, thinking of who it could be. There was only one other option but Sebastian refused to think of it. Finally, he could take it and walked towards the door and unlocking it before throwing it open. He stared at the man that stood in front of him, a wide if somewhat sheepish smile across the man's face.

“Hello, tiger,” he purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Sherlock and John about the best man is almost word for word. Mostly after John tells Sherlock he wants him as the best man and where/how the conversation takes place is difference as well, of course.


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian stared at Jim. A million things passed through his mind but his reflexes acted before he made a decision. His fist connected with Jim’s jaw before he realized what was happening. Jim was knocked off balance and fell backwards flat on his back. He closed his eyes and brought his hand up to rub at his jaw.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked. Sebastian blinked for a moment and then crossed his arms.

“Yes,” he stated. “You’re lucky that’s all you got.”

Jim sat up slowly, hand still pressed to his jaw. “I guess you missed me.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes as Jim got to his feet unsteadily. He moved his jaw slightly and rubbed at it again. Sebastian watched him, emotions rolling through him like a tidal wave. He had no idea how he felt or what to say. Or if he should say anything.

“You were holding back,” Jim commented, thankfully breaking the silence.

“My mistake,” Sebastian said coldly. He turned to walk back into the flat with Jim trailing after him.

“Aww, don’t be like that, tiger,” Jim said. Sebastian finally turned to face him and Jim was taken aback by the pure rage written across his face.

“Stop calling me that,” he snapped and Jim took a step back. He’d crossed a line. A line that had been in place since they met and he’d vowed to never cross again. “You don’t get to pretend everything is fine. This isn’t something I can just forgive!"

“Sebastian, you’re being unreasonable,” Jim tried. Of course, that only served to worsen Sebastian’s temper. How _dare_ he say that Sebastian was the unreasonable one like he hadn’t put him through agony the past few years?

“Unreasonable? It was three bloody years,” Sebastian shouted, his hands curling fists. “And never a hint that you were alive. Only when Sherlock came back did you say anything.”

Tears pricked Sebastian’s eyes but he didn’t really care at that moment. Jim stared at him, worried that with Sebastian’s temper he might actually find himself dead. He had never found himself so terrified before, let alone of Sebastian.

“Seb, please,” Jim said, taking another step back despite the fact that Sebastian hadn’t moved. “I was busy fixing the mess Sherlock was making of the empire.”

Sebastian turned away and raked a hand through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the hot angry tears. He wiped them away as Jim stared at him. He wasn’t used to such raw emotion coming from Sebastian and he had no idea how to react. Unfortunately, Sebastian had already decided he was done with Jim was done for the night.

“I’m going to bed,” he said in an emotionless voice. “I haven’t touched your room. Sleep there.”

With that, he disappeared into his room and Jim was alone, just as he had been for the last three years. He took a deep breath and pushed the emotions that threatened to surface down. He walked towards his room and opened the door slowly. True to Sebastian’s word, the room was the same as he had left it. He walked towards the bed and ran a hand over it.

“I’m sorry, Seb,” he muttered, closing his eyes as he sat down. It seemed so stupid now. All of it. He didn’t care that his empire was ruined; that Sherlock had beat him at his own game; that the world no longer cared that he could have ruled it. All he cared about was the pain in Sebastian’s voice and the anger in his eyes when he saw Jim. He’d give anything to have Sebastian look at him with that same adoration he used to before, to speak to him with that tone that meant he would follow Jim to the ends of the earth if he asked. Hell, he’d give anything to have Sebastian watch him with that guarded look he’d had when they first met. Anything but that betrayal that edged both now.

Jim didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he paced that room, his phone in hand as he listened to the messages Sebastian had left through the years. It was his routine, the one that had kept him going. He could hear it; the loyalty he’d taken for granted. Sebastian talked about everything even though he’d thought Jim was dead. Jim had no idea why and the sentiment of the action brought a lump to his throat. He’d probably never hear that voice that voice again.

When the sun came up, it found him sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up and his forehead pressed against them. He heard Sebastian leave his room and quiet murmurs as he talked to someone on the phone. John, probably. A slice of jealousy cut into Jim’s stomach as he listened. There it was; that tone he’d grown so accustomed to. The one that would never be directed to him again.

“How’d he take it?” Sebastian asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“He malfunctioned,” John chuckled, making Sebastian smile softly. “Honestly, he was so surprised. I don’t think he’d ever considered it.”

“Well, that’s how it is. He isn’t really very human like, is he?”

“I suppose not. Anyway, how was your night, love?”

Sebastian paused and took a sip of his coffee as the memories of last night trickled back into his mind. He sighed and put the mug down to rub a hand over his face.

“Jim came back,” he said, voice thick with emotion. There was silence on the other end and Sebastian closed his eyes. This was all wrong.

“Mor- uh, Jim? He’s alive? I thought he shot himself?”

“And we thought Sherlock jumped off the building. Guess neither of them could just stay dead.”

“Are you okay, Sebastian? How’d you take it?”

“I punched him. And then I yelled. And then I cried.”

“You’re allowed to. Honestly, I’m surprised that’s all he got away with what with your temper.”

A chuckle left Sebastian’s lips as he leaned against the counter. Something about John calmed him and he honestly didn’t think that he could have survived as long as he had without him. There was another long pause and Sebastian heard Sherlock’s voice in the background.

“I have to go. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed.

“I love you,” John said. “Try not to kill Jim.”

“I’ll try,” he chuckled. “I love you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

John hung up the phone and pulled it away from his ear, staring at it for a moment before turning back to Sherlock. The detective was bustling about the flat, checking this and that as he muttered to himself and occasionally saying something at John. He finally stopped when John stopped talking on the phone.

“Done?” he asked, sounding put off at the prospect of John not paying attention. So, his normal self. “Anything interesting happen to Sebastian through the night?”

“Well, I guess you could say that,” John stated, frowning at the phone in his hand. He looked up at Sherlock, who now seemed a bit confused. “Moriarty is back.”

Sherlock paused, turning to look at John with a frown.

“That’s impossible,” he said. John raised an eyebrow.

“Says the man that jumped off the roof,” he commented. Sherlock frowned, shaking his head.

“I watched him shoot himself. I was right there,” he said. “There is no possible way to survive a gunshot to the head.”

“I can find out, if you like,” John said. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at him. “He’ll probably tell Sebastian how he did it and I could ask him.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat heavily in his chair. John knew Sherlock didn’t like Sebastian, or maybe just the entire situation. John stood up from his own chair and walked towards the kitchen. He made some tea and came back to see Sherlock with his fingers steepled and that faraway look in his eyes. John remained entirely quiet as he sipped his tea and watched as Sherlock navigated his mind palace.

Sherlock had a room dedicated to Moriarty. He’d often come back to it to analyze a piece of information he might have overlooked. One thing that would never be deleted was the day they both “died.” He’d gone over it a million times, searching for a loophole he had missed and driving himself near insanity with trying to find something.

Now, though, he was searching for something different. He was looking for some indication as to how Moriarty did it. He let out a growl in frustration as he examined everything, ruffling through documents he had placed their conversation on and examining every gesture Jim had made. He’d already determined that he could have prevented Moriarty from shooting himself but there was no indication as to how he’d faked his death.

“This is impossible,” Sherlock growled. John looked up as Sherlock fixed him in a glare. “How do you know Sebastian was telling the truth?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, John. He’s a criminal. You say he’s changed but maybe my return triggered something. Or maybe he’s just plain lost it.”

John gave him a flat look and John returned it easily. He got to his feet and strode to the kitchen, dumping the rest of his tea and placing the mug in the sink. He then walked to the door and grabbed his coat.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“ _We_ ,” John said pointed. “Are going to Sebastian’s flat.”

Sherlock didn’t move and John looked at him expectantly.

“Well? Do you want to go to Moriarty’s flat or what?” he asked.

“Oh God yes,” Sherlock sat, standing up almost immediately. The most dangerous criminal in London may be alive. How fun.

Said criminal came out of his room at ten, hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes prominent. Almost as prominent as the bruise that now graced his jaw. Sebastian looked at him over the book he was reading and felt guilt burn through him as Jim shuffled past him and towards the coffeemaker. It was silent as Sebastian quickly lowered his gaze back to his book.

The silence was stifling as Jim sipped his coffee, the only sound the turning of pages and their breath. The tension hung in the air as thick as a wool blanket. You could cut it with a knife and Jim wanted nothing more than to rid all of it. He slammed his cup down and some of the still hot liquid splashed onto his hand, making him hiss in pain. Sebastian looked up, eyebrows raised.

“You okay?” he asked. Jim nodded as he cleaned it up. He wasn’t burnt; there was just slightly pinker spot on his hand where the liquid had been. He sighed and hung his head as he leaned against the counter. He turned back to Sebastian and walked towards him, sitting on the chair across from where he was sprawled on the sofa.

“So you’re getting married,” he commented into his mug. Sebastian frowned, glancing up. “To John Watson. How exciting.”

“What are you getting at?” Sebastian asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know you were the type to settle down,” he shrugged. Sebastian looked at him flatly and looked back down.

“Things changed.”

“How long did you wait after I was dead?”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened but his eyes didn’t leave the page. They stopped moving though, indicating that he had stopped reading. He swallowed once, sighing through his nose.

“A year,” he finally said, like it was being forced out of him. Jim raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly.

Had it really been that difficult for Sebastian to get over it? Here he was, sitting in the same room as him and very much _alive_ and... Sebastian was tense, far tenser then Jim has ever seen him – and he’s seen Sebastian almost die. Multiple times. He tilted his head as he studied the sniper – ex-sniper? He wasn’t sure.

Jim shook his head and sighed, finishing his coffee and standing up to put it in the kitchen. He realized with a jolt that he had no idea who Sebastian was anymore. The realization made him put the mug on the counter sharply, causing a loud crack to ring through the flat as it broke in half. The sound caused Sebastian to look up warily.

“You okay there, boss?” he asked, words falling out of his mouth on reflex. Jim stared at the broken mug and shook his head. It was just a stupid word, a stupid title.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly. He put his hands on the counter and hung his head. He could feel tears and angrily brushed them away. He heard Sebastian move and walk towards him. He tensed as he felt Sebastian’s presence behind him. “I said I’m fine.”

He hated how his voice cracked and he gritted his teeth together. Why could Sebastian drag such emotions out of him? He wasn’t supposed to have such weaknesses and yet here was this ordinary man that seemed to be able to change that. No, not ordinary. His ex-second-in-command, the best shot he’d ever seen, the man he’d died to protect.

He didn’t move as Sebastian cleaned up the broken mug. He kept his gaze down and suddenly Sebastian was leading him to the couch. He didn’t say anything as they sat down, arm wrapped around Jim’s shoulders. A tear slid down Jim’s cheek and he wiped it away impatiently. The last time Jim had cried was three years ago when he’d realized what he’d done to Sebastian. And now he was crying for the same man.

“I’ve lost you,” he suddenly stated, making Sebastian look down at him. “I might as well actually be dead.”

“You haven’t lost me,” Sebastian said gently. Jim shook his head, pulling out of Sebastian’s grip.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” he said irritably as he stood up. Sebastian reached for him, grabbing his wrist. Jim looked down at the contact. His wrist, not his hand. He directed his gaze to Sebastian’s eyes, his own holding no emotions.

“It’s been three years,” Sebastian said gently. “You can’t expect me to have stayed the same.”

Jim stared at him for a moment before ripping his wrist out of Sebastian’s grip. He sighed through his nose and turned his back towards him.

“I’m going for a walk,” he stated, grabbing his coat. He pulled it on as Sebastian watched him sadly. He didn’t look back as he left, slamming the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock followed John to Sebastian’s flat, the shorter of the two excited to see his fiancé. He opened the door; not bothering to knock as he practically lived there. He was a bit surprised to see Sebastian lying on the couch with his book sitting on his chest, staring at the ceiling.

“Sebastian,” he said gently, walking forward cautiously. The other man looked at him, the only thing moving being his eyes. Sherlock stayed back as John got closer, slowly crouching next to him to place a hand on his arm. “Love, are you okay?”

Sebastian moved now, rubbing his hand over his eyes as he turned on his side. The book fell to the floor and John picked it up, placing it on the side table as Sebastian watched him. Sherlock watched the simple interactions, frowning at the feeling of intrusion that settled in his chest.

“Jim just walked out,” Sebastian said as John stood up, taking off his coat. He tossed it over the other chair and sat on the couch as Sebastian scooted back against it to make room for him. “God, I haven’t felt this since-“

He broke of suddenly and John leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. He remembered Sebastian telling him about the months following Jim’s death. The days he spent cooped up in the flat, barely eating, staring at the ceiling. Occasionally there was drinking and then after there would be swearing and things would be broken.

“Sebastian, it’s fine,” John said gently, running his fingers through his hair. “He’ll come back. Did he say where’s he was going?”

“No. Just left,” Sebastian stated as he sat up. He wrapped John in his arms and sighed, closing his eyes. There was silence for a moment or two before Sherlock cleared his throat. Sebastian looked up first and Sherlock was caught off guard by the desolate look in his eyes.

“So, Moriarty has returned and you’ve lost him,” he commented airily, moving towards the pair. He settled in the chair Jim had occupied not an hour prior. John didn’t move and Sebastian didn’t give any indication of wanting to let him go. Sherlock allowed himself a moment to study the pair before saying anything. “I’ll take the case.”

“Excuse me?” John frowned.

“Moriarty is loose in London,” Sherlock stated, as if that explained everything. At both their blank looks, he continued. “Someone has to find him before he gets into trouble. Naturally, that should be me.”

The two exchanged looks, thoughts and emotions floating between them. Once again, Sherlock felt as though he were intruding on their lives. He shook his head and John looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He could practically hear the scolding. _At least_ try _to be sensitive._ He rolled his eyes. He _was_ being sensitive.

“Sebastian,” he said, leaning forward so his elbows were situated on his knees. His voice seemed softer but that just caused a wary gleam to appear in the man’s eyes. Right, sniper, military man, worked for a psychopath. Sherlock suspected Moriarty wasn’t the kindest boss. Kindness probably meant trouble. Sherlock decided that a commanding tone was probably best. “Sebastian, you and John stay here in case he comes back. I’ll track him down.”

He stood to leave but Sebastian finally deemed it time to release John and stand up in front of him, halting his exit. They stared at each other for a moment, measuring each other up. This was a test. For both of them. For a moment, neither of them spoke. John looked between them, unsure as to what was happening.

“You don’t know him well enough to go after him,” Sebastian finally said. “You won’t find him.”

“You of all people should know not to underestimate me, Colonel,” Sherlock replied easily. Another moment of silence followed. “I can guarantee his safety from the moment I find him to the moment I return him here.”

“You better hope so, Holmes,” Sebastian said, eyes narrowing. “I’ve already lost him once. I’ll be damned if it happens again.”

Sherlock jerked his head in a nod and looked down at John. If Sebastian protected John with that same ferociousness he displayed now, Sherlock could see no problem with any of this. John followed his gaze back to Sebastian and allowed a small smile on his lips.

“I’ll be back,” Sherlock said, smiling gently. “And it will be much quicker than the last time.”

With that, he was gone, leaving in a sweep of his coat. Once the door shut, Sebastian allowed his shoulders to sag and he fell onto the couch next to John. John moved closer as he put his face in his hands, rubbing his back soothingly.

“He’ll bring him back, Sebastian,” he said. Sebastian sighed.

“I’m worried about that,” he sighed, dropping his hands into his lap. “Jim would have come back by himself. It’s the mayhem he could cause when he’s in such a mood.”

Jim walked down the street, hood pulled over his face as he glared at the sidewalk. It was _stupid_ to think he could come back. Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid._ He let out a growl as he stopped, dropping his head into his hands. He’d never been so idiotic before. Never let his emotions rule his mind. How idiotic of him.

He looked around. He had nowhere to go except back, which he refused to do. His empire had fallen apart, leaving him with nothing and nowhere. He felt rage flood through him and he had never wanted to kill someone so badly in his life. Yet, he couldn’t. He couldn’t put himself in the position of getting caught, not when he had only just returned home.

He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. He calmed himself enough to give some thought to where he was going to go. The first place to pop into his head made him scoff. It would have to do for now. It wasn’t like he had any other choice. Besides, it wasn’t that far off from where he was.

Ten minutes later saw him on the roof. He stood at the ledge, not looking down but looking out over tops of the other buildings. Three years ago he was on top of the world and almost everyone cowered at his name. Now, he was nothing. He didn’t have anything.

He closed his eyes. That wasn’t true. He had Sebastian. He could handle that. After three years without him, he wanted nothing besides his Tiger. But he was going to lose him again, just as soon as he’d gotten him back.

He heard the door open behind and, in a sense of déjà vu, heard Sherlock’s voice.

“I knew you’d be here.”


	8. Chapter 8

Jim didn’t turn around, his eyes still closed and hands stuffed in his pockets. He heard Sherlock’s footsteps come closer but he still didn’t move. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay in that same spot for as long as he could.

“You’ve gotten more predictable in the last three years,” Sherlock said as he stopped next to him. Jim opened his eyes and looked over at him, making no other movement as he watched Sherlock pull a cigarette from his pocket. He put it between his lips and lit it. “I have to say I’m a bit disappointed.”

Sherlock took a moment to look at him, studying him for a moment. A deep bruise graced his jaw and Sherlock suspected that Sebastian was to blame for it. It must have been a hard hit to leave such a dark mark. He refrained from commenting on it. He offered Jim a cigarette and Jim wrinkled his nose, shaking his head.

“I don’t smoke,” he stated, turning away again. Sherlock just shrugged, putting it away. “I told you on that day that it was the end, Sherlock. There are no more games for me. You’ve made sure that I didn’t have the players to continue them.”

Sherlock nodded, pulling the cigarette from his lips to exhale the smoke. It was quiet between them for several moments, the only sounds coming from the street below and the breeze whistling past their ears.

“I like to think of this as the beginning of a new chapter,” he stated. Jim scoffed. “Maybe one not quite as fun as the last but we can’t stop it, Jim.”

“How poetic,” Jim snorted.

There were a few moments of silence as Sherlock blew the smoke from his lungs and Jim stared forward. He let out a sigh as he took a step forward, onto the ledge.

“You’re not going to jump, are you?” Sherlock asked, almost sounding bored. “I promised Moran I’d keep you safe and I’d rather not break his trust after just gaining it.”

“Tell me, were you scared, Sherlock?” he asked in that airy way of his, ignoring Sherlock. He walked along the edge, his hands behind his back. He briefly considered jumping but he couldn’t do that to Sebastian. Not again. He turned to look at Sherlock, who didn’t know whether or not to be surprised about seeing the emotions warring in his eyes. “Were you scared seeing all those people below you, like ants as they scurried about their business? Scared knowing that you’d soon be falling to meet them?”

“No,” Sherlock replied, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his heel. “I was scared for everyone else. I knew what would happen to them if I didn’t do it so I was scared for them.”

Jim didn’t answer as he stepped down and sat at the ledge. Sherlock sat next to him and the silence between them was almost companionable. They both knew what the other had to be going through. They needn’t speak about it; they could just leave it there in that silence and be done with it. Yet, something in them compelled them to speak of this pain that tortured them.

“They’re going to be happy, Jim,” Sherlock said suddenly. Jim looked over at him gravely. “They’re going to get married and probably start a family and there’s nothing we can do about it besides be happy for them.”

“Well, we could do something,” Jim shrugged. “But they would hate us.”

“Which is why we won’t. We wouldn’t be able to survive if they did.”

There was another beat of silence and understanding between them. It was odd. Here they were, sitting where this entire mess had started and they both felt the same lonely ache in their chests. They had been idiots. They’d hurt the only people that had ever loved them and now…

“It’s the end of an era, Sherlock,” Jim said, a peculiar tone in his voice. Sherlock looked over at him.

“Indeed it is.”

“You dismantled my web and my right hand man is getting married. He’s given up this life and I don’t know how I can continue with it.”

“What are you saying?” Sherlock asked curiously. Jim shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll write a book. The Life of James Moriarty, written by Richard Brook. Or maybe I’ll do some fiction. Kill some characters, make people cry. I’ve seen that first hand. Sebastian once had a mental breakdown over a novel.”

“You’re giving up being a consulting criminal?”

Jim looked over at him, managing to keep his gaze controlled this time. It was cold and calculated, much like when they first met. That look was reserved specifically for times when Moriarty had a carefully constructed plan that he refused let fall to pieces. It was able to make people cringe at a single glance and terror would bloom in their chest. For Sherlock, however, that gaze was one of the most open emotions Jim wore. He could see the determined stubbornness that laced his eyes, however minutely.

“There’s nothing for me in that life anymore, Sherlock. I’d reached my peak when I made you kill yourself. Nothing will be as fun as that,” he replied easily. “I could bring the world to its knees but what’s the _point_? I’d have all that power… and no one to share it with.”

He looked down as he finished his voice growing quiet towards the end. He scoffed at himself and shook his head.

“Listen to me getting sentimental about him. Pathetic. I can’t believe the mess that he’s reduced me to,” he said bitterly. He glanced sideways at Sherlock. “Is this how you felt about John? It’s ridiculous. And painful.”

“It is, yes,” Sherlock agreed. He let out a light hum as he studied Jim. “But I think you’ll agree with me when I say that they’re worth it.”

Jim didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Sherlock knew he was right. After all, Jim had been right when he said that they were the same. The silence between them wasn’t strained. Even if it had been, both were too wrapped in their thoughts to notice. The reality of John and Sebastian’s engagement was a hard one to accept, especially to them. They were both used to their companions being there for them that a world without them by their side… It was near impossible to imagine, not to mention upsetting.

After several moments of the loaded silence, Sherlock’s phone slashed through it. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and glanced at the text from John.

“It seems we’re missed,” he drawled. Jim snorted, shaking his head. There was another silent moment. “It might be best that we not mention where we have been. I have already been punched once by John and I don’t think it’s something I want a repeat of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you're not sure if Jim and Sherlock are characterized correctly....


	9. Chapter 9

Sebastian hummed as he moved about the kitchen and John sat at the table with a cup of tea in front of him, his eyes following the other man. It was calming to watch. Sebastian cooked with the same unerring adeptness he brought to all other aspects in his life. He was methodical, checking and double checking ingredients. He didn’t allow himself to leave room for error.

“Has Sherlock responded?” Sebastian asked without looking up from the saucepan.

“No,” John replied, looking at his phone. Sebastian sighed, shoulders taut.

“You don’t think they’ve actually killed each other this time, do you?” he asked in what was probably supposed to be a joking manner but it fell flat to even his own ears. John studied him for a second and stood up, walking towards him to wrap his arms around his waist.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t do that again, love,” he said, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Sebastian just gave a small nod and continued cooking.

John noticed Sebastian thrived on control. Even the illusion of control calmed him. He assumed that was the reason that Sebastian enjoyed cooking; it gave him something he could control. In his old line of work, whatever wasn’t controlled was a threat and if something wasn’t perfect, it was a failure. John and Sebastian had argued and fought a few times because of this when they started getting serious but they had always apologized and Sebastian eventually got better about being controlling. But to John it seemed that Jim’s arrival had triggered that same obsession with control.

“I’m sorry, John,” Sebastian sighed.  

“What for?”

“For… this entire situation. I shouldn’t have let Jim in the flat. I shouldn’t have asked you out. Everything would have been so much easier if we’d never started this.”

“None of this is your fault, Sebastian,” John said, pressing a kiss just under Sebastian’s ear. “If it was anyone’s fault, it was Jim and Sherlock’s. They’re the ones that faked their deaths.”

“I guess you’re right,” Sebastian muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He turned to kissed John gently. “As always.”

John chuckled and Sebastian smiled at the sound.

“Honestly, I’m not right that often,” he stated. “Besides, there’s no reason that would ever make me regret meeting you.”

Sebastian smiled and kissed his forehead. Neither had heard the front door. Jim and Sherlock had heard their conversation and were now exchanging glances. Jim swallowed and Sherlock looked as stoic as ever.

“They’d be happier if we just left,” Jim whispered, knowing how stupid it sounded as he said it. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“You know it would hurt them both so much more if we did,” he replied just as quietly. Jim sighed and they walked into the kitchen as Sebastian kissed John. Sherlock cleared his throat and they pulled apart. A smile bloomed across Sebastian’s face and he wrapped an arm John.

“You guys actually made it back,” John grinned.

“I told you I would bring Moriarty back in one piece,” Sherlock said. He looked down at Jim for a moment and gestured to him vaguely. “And he looks completely whole to me so I would appreciate it if you didn’t sound so surprised.”

There was a pause and Jim frowned, sniffing the air.

“Seb, were you cooking?” he asked. Sebastian’s eyes widened and he turned back to the stove. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Sebastian cooks?” he asked aloud, sounding less surprised and more frustrated with the fact he didn’t know.

“It calms him down,” Jim and John said simultaneously. They paused and looked at each other for a moment. Jim finally cleared his throat and looked away. Silence filled the room for an uncomfortable moment before Sebastian cleared his throat.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, giving a slightly strained smile.

“As much as I would love to stay, I really should be going,” Sherlock said. 

“Don't you want to stay, Sherlock?” John asked. He looked Sherlock over critically and frowned. “You know what, you look like you haven't eaten in months. You're going to stay.”

“I don't get a say in this?” Sherlock asked, looking to the other two for support.

“Don't look at me, mate,” the larger of the two shrugged. “He's right.”

Sherlock huffed a sigh and crossed his arms. He and Jim sat at the table and he leaned forward towards the other man. 

“If I ran, how long do you think it'd take for them to catch me?” he whispered. Jim gave him a flat look. 

“Not very far,” he replied. “There's a reason Sebastian is my best.”

“Was,” Sherlock corrected absently and Jim paused for a moment before nodding. 

“Was,” he agreed. 

Dinner passed slowly, going easily between strained conversation between Sebastian and John and tense silence. Eventually, what little conversation there was turned to the impending wedding and Jim and Sherlock finally joined. 

“Obviously John will be in his dress uniform,” Sherlock said. “Since Sebastian was dishonorably discharged, I'm sure he'll be in a normal tux.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian frowned. He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know I had a dishonorable discharge?” 

“I may have checked your file,” Sherlock said flippantly. 

“My file? My  _ confidential  _ file?” 

“You  _ do _ know who my brother is, don't you?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Now, now, girls,” John said gently, glancing between them. Sebastian didn't respond and Sherlock fell silent.

“Sebastian, do you even own one?” Jim asked. “As far as I remember, you've never worn one.”

“That's because I haven't,” Sebastian replied. “And, no, I don't one.”

“I'd hoped that John had knocked some sense into you,” Jim sighed, shaking his head. “No matter. We'll have you fitted for one.”

Sebastian and John exchanged glances and stood up. 

“Yes, well, it's getting late so I think we'll go to bed,” John said and Sebastian nodded. 

“You two get some sleep,” he said sternly. “Goodnight.”


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock left not too soon after Sebastian and John went to bed. He walked down the street as the rain came, keeping his head down as he tried to quiet his mind. It wasn't an easy task, the situation he was in making his mind whirl.

  
Why him? Why did he have to have the only thing that mattered to him ripped from his hands? Why did something like this have to happen for him to truly realize how much John actually meant to him?

  
The answer, of course, was that he had been an idiot. An idiot in love. Mycroft would scoff at him if he knew. Which is precisely why he would never know.

  
Back to the point, however. Sherlock was very much aware of the fact that he loved John. Deeply. What a fool he was to think John had felt the same. The only consoling thought he had was that Sebastian would take care of him. If consoling was the appropriate word.

  
“Sherlock, dear, you look awful,” Mrs. Hudson said as he walked into the flat. He just looked over at her as he reached up to shake the water from his hair.

  
“Shouldn't you be asleep? It's late,” he stated. She gave him a pitying look and turned to sweep into her flat.

  
“I'm making tea and I have some biscuits,” she said, ignoring his question. “Why don't you come in and tell me why you look like a kicked puppy.”

  
Sherlock knew that she would understand if he just left at that moment. But he also knew that he shouldn't be alone right now. What would John think if he… got himself into trouble?

  
He sighed and followed behind her, sitting down at the table as she prompted him. Then she was moving about the kitchen, she talking as she went.

  
“That man John’s been seeing, what's his name, he's such a polite young man,” she said, placing the plate of biscuits in front of him. “When he and John came over just last week, he offered to cook and clean so I wouldn't have to. Isn't that just dear?”

  
Sherlock hummed in agreement, looking down at the cup of tea she placed in front of him. Yes, Sebastian was a good man. Suspiciously so, in Sherlock’s opinion. But he knew how pure the man’s intentions were with John. They truly appeared to love each other. He picked up the cup and looked at her as he realized she was speaking.

  
“Now tell me, dear,” she said, sitting down across from him. “What’s put that look on your face?”

  
Sherlock hesitated. He brought time as he sipped from the cup for longer than was comfortable for either of them. But Mrs. Hudson waited patiently, sipping her tea and helping herself to the biscuits. Finally, he set the cup down delicately.

  
“John has asked me to be his best man,” he said after another beat of silence. “He and Sebastian are getting married."

  
“That doesn't explain why you looked so distraught,” she said. There was a pause as realization crossed her face. “Oh, you poor thing.” She reached across the table and placing a hand over his. “Don't worry. You'll find someone else.”

  
“I don't want anyone else. I want John,” he said, voice a bare whisper. He sounded like a child but he couldn't bring himself to care.

  
“I'm sorry, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson said gently. Sherlock just nodded, reaching up to wipe his eyes.

  
“I think I'm going to bed,” he muttered and stood up. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Hudson.”

  
Mrs. Hudson watched sadly as he walked out of her flat and he meandered up the stairs.

  
The flat was quiet and Sherlock felt the weight of it as he trudged to his room. He fell onto his bed and buried his face into his pillow. It was late and he felt emotionally exhausted. And yet he couldn't sleep. With a sigh, he pushed himself off the bed and onto his feet. It felt difficult to lift his feet as he wandered back out.

  
Usually, he could ignore the cold but he felt the chill of the air was creeping into his bones, reminding him that he was truly alone. If he weren't so smart, he'd have said the chip became worse when he glanced to John’s chair. Maybe some tea would take away the bite in the air.   
Moments after setting the kettle on the stove, there was a knock on the door. He sighed moved towards the door.

  
“What are you doing here?” He asked the silver haired man. Greg just shrugged.

  
“You weren't answering my texts,” he said. It was said casually but Sherlock could feel the concern. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  
“I'm fine,” he said shortly. Greg gave him a flat look.

  
“I can see that.”

  
Sherlock chewed his lip and watched as Greg turned to go. It was then that he realized that he didn't want to be alone

  
“Do you want to come in?” He asked, all but blurting it out. Greg turned back and lifted an eyebrow. “I, uh, the kettle just boiled.”

  
He knew his desperation showed but thankfully Greg didn't mention it. He just walked past Sherlock and settled in John’s chair. The fact that it was no longer empty eased Sherlock’s mind ever so slightly. It wasn't long before the tea was ready and he handed Greg a cup before sitting in his chair.

  
“So how are you holding up, Sherlock?” Greg asked. Sherlock looked up at him, face perfectly devoid of emotion.

  
“Is this about John?” He asked. “I'm fine. Why does everyone think I'm not?”

  
“Sherlock…”

  
“John's moved on. I would have been an idiot to think he wouldn't have,” he said bitterly. Greg just sighed and set the cup down.

  
“Sherlock, I want you to listen to me,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Greg held up his hand. “I want you to be _quiet_ and _listen_. Okay?”

  
Sherlock nodded and Greg leaned back.

  
“When you left, John was a mess. He barely ate, almost never slept, and his life screeched to a halt. Do you want to know when it started again?”

  
“No,” Sherlock muttered, crossing his arms.

  
“Well I'm gonna tell you anyway,” Greg said. “It was when he met Sebastian. I hadn't seen him so happy since you ‘died’. I know you miss him but you have to accept that.”

  
Sherlock didn't answer and Greg stood up. He placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder but the detective didn't look at him.

  
“But he's still your best mate. He still wants you in his life. Stay there,” he said and Sherlock felt tears gathering in his eyes. “Good night, Sherlock. Get some sleep.”

  
And just like that, Sherlock was alone again.


	11. Chapter 11

The mornings were a quiet affair for Sebastian. John would go to work and he'd be on his own. Usually, he'd start the day off with a run but today he settled for a cup of coffee and his laptop resting on his lap. He glanced up briefly as Jim's door opened.

  
“And where are you going?” he asked as Jim walked into the living room decked out in his usual suit. He looked up at his ex-employee with a raised eyebrow. Sebastian didn't move, gazing back with that same look that he reserved for a job.

  
“Does it matter?” Jim asked. Sebastian moved his gaze back down to the screen of his computer.

  
“I'm assuming it's a personal thing?”

  
There was a long pause and Jim narrowed his eyes.

“How did you know?”

  
“Because I know you. I can tell what's business and what isn't.”

  
“How?”

  
“You have this certain air about you when it's business. Sort of a ‘devil may care’ attitude,” he said. Jim smirked as he edged closer.

  
“Oh? Is that why you couldn't keep your hands off my after business meetings?” He purred. Sebastian didn't even look up at him, instead taking a sip of his coffee.

  
“Just don't kill anyone while you're out. I just got you back. I won't be having you being arrested,” he said.

  
“Of course, mum,” Jim said pointedly. Sebastian didn't react. “After all these years and you still worry after me.”

  
“Someone has to. You hardly do it yourself,” Sebastian pointed out, finally looking at him again.

  
“I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, Sebastian.”

  
Sebastian gave him an unimpressed look before returning his gaze to the laptop once more.

  
“I'll believe that when you actually start looking healthier,” he said flatly.

  
“What's wrong with the way I look?”

  
“You look like you've gone weeks without eating a proper meal. And you've got circles under your eyes from lack of sleep,” Sebastian said. “In short, you look the same as when I started working for you.”

  
Jim would have argued had Sebastian not been right. He huffed and turned towards the door.

  
“I'll be back by dinner. Don't wait up.”

  
And with that, he swept out of the flat. Sebastian was thankful for the quiet.   
Hours later found him asleep in much the same position when John came home, exhausted from the little sleep he'd gotten the night before. He chuckled and walked over to move the computer, startling Sebastian awake.

  
“Oh, you're…” Sebastian began, cutting himself off with a yawn. “You're home.”  
He sat up, grabbing John's arm to pull him into a kiss.

  
“Yes and you're sleeping,” John chuckled, sitting beside Sebastian. “Nightmares again?”

  
“Yeah. They seem to be happening more frequently now.”

  
“You need something to get your mind off of everything,” John said and Sebastian chuckled.

  
“Yeah, I guess retired life doesn't suit me,” Sebastian chuckled. “Are you thinking I should get a job?”

  
“Oh god, no,” John said, shaking his head. “That’d be horrible. And it's not like you need it, what with what Jim left you.”

  
“I guess. Guess I need a hobby then. You know, maybe I'll write a book. I've got more than enough inspiration,” he said.   
“Guess you do. Sure the world would love a glimpse inside the mind of the most dangerous man in London,” John said.

  
“Second most dangerous,” Sebastian corrected idly. John just shrugged and he stood up.

  
“Do you want some tea?” He asked as he walked to the kitchen.

  
“Uh, yeah,” Sebastian said, stretching his arms above his head. “Sounds good.”

  
As he walked towards the kitchen, his cell went off, blaring Eye of the Tiger in a signal that Jim was trying to contact him. He rolled his eyes as he grabbed his phone from his pocket to answer it.

  
“Yeah?”

  
John put the kettle on and then checked his phone to see the multiple messages from Sherlock. Seemed that Greg had given him a good case. He didn't care that it was making him blow up his phone. As long as he was safe.

  
John should probably take Greg out to drink or something as a thank you.   
He suddenly realized that he hadn't heard Sebastian's conversation and looked up to see him standing there, his face pale and _murder_ in his eyes.

  
“What's happened?” John asked cautiously.

  
“Jim was fucking jumped,” Sebastian said and turned. He stalked to Jim's room before coming out with a gun in hand, hand curled around it like it was an extension of his arm.

  
John watched with wide eyes as suddenly the second most dangerous man in London threw open the flat door and left. He barely had time to think before he was grabbing his coat and chasing after Sebastian.

  
“Sebastian, you're going to do something stupid,” John said as he caught up with him. Sebastian didn't look at him, rage and fear wrestling across his features. John grabbed his arm. “Sebastian! Listen!”

  
“What?!” Sebastian snapped as he turned back to John. The doctor set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He knew the reason for Sebastian's temper but they had an unspoken agreement. Sebastian looked away and cast his gaze to the ground. His sign of guilt.

  
“You need to calm down before you get yourself into trouble,” John said calmly. Sebastian slowly dipped his head in a nod.


	12. Chapter 12

Jim was found slumped against the side of a building. His lip was busted, he had a black eye, and bruises and cuts decorated the rest of the skin visible through his destroyed suit. He had his hand pressed to his side. Slowly, he lifted his clouded eyes as he heard footsteps and the corner of his lip quirked up when he saw who was coming towards him.

  
“Seb,” he said, voice soft.

  
“Goddamnit, I never should have let you leave the flat,” Sebastian said. Jim just stared up at him as John crouched next to him. Sebastian didn’t interfere as he checked Jim over. John pulled off his coat and pressed it against Jim's side to stem the blood coming from the wound.

  
“Sebastian…”

  
Jim was struggling against unconsciousness, a losing battle. The last thing he registered was the absolute devastation on Sebastian's face. He was sure he was going to die. He accepted it.  
And he was sure Sebastian would be fine without him. He'd gotten along without him before. He could do it again. Jim was sure of that.

  
Consciousness came back slowly to Jim. The first thing was his sense of touch. The feel of statin sheets against his skin and someone's hand in his. Then he could hear someone's steady breathing next to him. Sebastian's. They'd spent enough nights together for him to recognize that much.

  
Slowly, his eyes opened. He had no idea how long he'd been out but it was dark outside. It was late. Horribly so. Had it been light out when they'd found him? He wasn't sure. He couldn't remember much besides Sebastian's expression.  
The last thing he became aware of was the pain that radiated from his side. Excruciating pain that made him groan as soon as he became aware of it. He felt movement beside him and turned his head to see Sebastian sitting up from where he'd been slouched over. He'd been sleeping it seemed.

  
“Jim?” his small voice came and as their eyes met, the relief in Sebastian's made Jim's water. “How are you feeling?”

  
“Hell,” Jim forced out, voice rough. Sebastian nodded and picked something up.

  
“John got you painkillers,” he said. He helped Jim sit up enough to take the pills and wash them down with some water. Then he was laying down again, waiting for them to kick in. “You're an idiot, you know that?”

  
“I know.”

  
Sebastian sighed and put his head in his hands. Jim moved and ran his fingers through his tiger’s hair. It was quiet for a long moment, the motion comforting for both of them.

  
“I can't lose you again, Jim,” Sebastian said, breaking the silence. He sounded so broken. “I just can't.”

  
“You're not going to, tiger,” came the reply. Neither moved, Jim's hand resting on Sebastian's head. Then Sebastian sat up again and Jim let his hand fall to the bed. “Sebastian, I…”

  
“Need to get some sleep,” he said, cutting him off.

  
“I don't need sleep. I got…” he stopped, thinking for a moment. “How long was I out for?”

  
“Fourteen hours.”

  
Jim could practically see the hours weighing on Sebastian. He was silent.  
Sebastian got to his feet and reached forward to place a hand on his cheek. Jim leaned into it, letting his eyes fall shut.

  
“Get some sleep, boss,” Sebastian ordered. Jim nodded minutely and Sebastian moved to slip from the room.

  
And then Jim was alone.

  
It took hours before he fell asleep. It was a uneasy sleep, filled with restless movement and nightmares. Jim woke up a scant three hours later to the bright lights of day. He moved to sit up, only for pain to shoot up his side. He groaned and laid back on the bed.

  
“You're going to tear the stitches if you do that again.”

  
Jim turned his head and blinked stupidly at John. The doctor stood in the doorway with a straight face. He walked into the room, looking Jim over.

  
“How are you feeling?” he asked.

  
“Like crap,” was the reply. There was a beat as John stopped by the edge of the bed.

  
“I'm afraid I'm gonna have to change the bandages. Don't want them to become infected.”

  
He helped Jim sit up, the situation tense for both of them. For more than one reason. It was quiet for some time, Jim just doing as he was prompted as John removed the bandage wrapped around him.

  
“Where's Sebastian?” he finally asked. There was a pause as John looked at him and then he continued what he was doing, as gentle as ever.

  
“He's finally asleep,” he said. “He hardly slept while you were out, you know. And barely ate. He was so worried that you wouldn't wake up.”

  
Just like that, the conversation came to an abrupt end. John finished the bandages and helped Jim lay down again. He was about to leave when Jim spoke up again.

  
“How did you two meet?”

  
John froze, not turning to look at him. He swallowed and finally faced Jim again.

  
“How do you think we did?”

  
“I have no idea. Sebastian said it was a year after...the Event but nothing more on the matter.”

  
John nodded and took a deep breathe.

  
“It's… complicated. And long,” he said. Jim could make out the pain in his eyes as he spoke, some underlying heartache.

  
“I don't think I'm going anywhere any time soon,” he replied. He'd been wondering about this since he heard the two were together. That had been the one voicemail Sebastian had never left.

  
“Alright. Fine.”


	13. Chapter 13

**2 years earlier**

John took a breath as he pushed open the door. Here he was a year later. Where it had started. Or ended really. This was where it had ended. John stepped onto the roof, steps slow and unsure. It was vacant. Or it appeared to be.

"Can I help you?” a gruff, hoarse voice asked as John reached the edge. John started, turning to face the man that leaned against the AC.

The man looked horrible, for lack of a proper description. His shoulders slumped and dark circles were under his eyes. He was thin, almost looking underfed. Resting on his lap was a very expensive looking gun.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was up here,” John said. He could smell the stale odor of alcohol drifting towards him and he knew immediately that this man had been drunk recently, if not still drunk.

“Looks like you weren't really paying attention,” he said. He fiddled with the gun freely and the sun glistened off of an engravment on the gun. John felt a nervous weight rest in his chest.

“Right. Well, sorry to… disturb you,” he said, already having it in his mind to leave.

“Don't worry about it,” the man said, waving it off. He gave John a look over and tilted his head. “You're that Watson bloke, aren't you? Holmes’s friend.”

John felt himself go tense.

“Yes.”

The man laughed, resting his head back. His hand tightened on the gun and he lifted it up to point at John.

"So you're the one that he died protecting, huh? God, I didn't think it would actually work. I thought Sherlock was too smart for that,” he said. John was more confused now than anything and he edged closer slowly.

“What are you talking about?” he asked cautiously. The man shrugged.

“I was there, gun trained on you,” he said, eyes half closing. “I wouldn't have been able to do it after Jim died. If Holmes hadn't jumped, I wouldn't have even noticed.”

“You worked for Moriarty?” John asked.

“Yep. Sebastian Moran at your service,” he said, giving a mocking salute. He looked up at john again. “I guess you're here for the same reason I am. What with it being the anniversary and all.”

John looked towards the edge of the building and back towards Sebastian. He moved closer and Sebastian scooted over so he could sit beside him.

“Guess we both got screwed over by those idiots,” he commented.

"Guess we did.”

There was a pause and something passed between them. A year of sorrow that didn't need to be discussed. They both knew the pain.

"So what's your stake anyway? No one wants to kill themselves just for their boss,” John commented. But maybe that's exactly what this was. Sebastian was a psychopath after all.

Instead of answering, Sebastian showed him the gun. The engraving John had noticed shone in the light.

_To My Tiger. Love JM_

Next to the words was…

“This is dated just a week before the incident,” John said, looking up at him. Sebastian nodded, not moving to take the gun back. Instead, he just stared forward.

"That's the one he used that day. To end it all,” he said in a strained voice. “Thought I should use it for the same reason.”

Then things were quiet. Up there, nothing could be heard from below. The only thing of significance was each other's breath. It was soothing to have someone that didn't insist on talking, that would allow the silence to stretch on.

“His empire fell,” Sebastian finally said. John looked over at him. He still was staring forward. “I made a promise that if anything ever happened to him that I would carry on but… He was right. Sentiment is a weakness.”

His voice cracked. John moved to put a hand on his shoulder. Sebastian looked at it and then at him.

There was nothing either of them could say. This was it. But they undersrood that it didn't have to be the end. They could end things or move on. Given the chance, if there was the slightest bit of hope that they could have seen their geniuses again, there would have been any hesitation. But there were no guarantees.

The silence stretched on and the sun dipped below the horizon. Neither wanted to move. John could feel his phone vibrating from calls. Probably from Greg.

The next thing John was aware of was the sun rising and the slight chill in the air. He blinked for a moment, the night before coming back to him slowly. He felt so comfortable and warm despite his surroundings and he moved ever so slightly to see whose shoulder he was resting on.

Sebastian hadn't stirred, head leaned back against the AC. It looked as if it was the first full night he'd gotten. If he'd been coping as well as John, he wouldn't be surprised if that proved to be true. John set his head back on Sebastian's shoulder, enjoying the warmth of the other.

As the sun came up, Sebastian stirred and his eyes blinked open. A flicker of confusion registered in his eyes before he looked down to John. Oh. It hadn't been a dream.

"Good morning,” he said in a gruff voice. John startled and sat up quickly. He hadn't known Sebastian was awake.

"Oh. Morning,” he breathed. Sebastian chuckled, the first time he'd done so in a year, and moved to stand up. He was unsteady on his feet and John stood up to help him.

"Thanks,” he grunted. He moved away once he trusted himself enough and stretched. “Fuck. Guess I should get back to the empty fuckin’ flat.”

There was a brief moment as they looked at each other and Sebastian was the one to break it. John hesitated a moment before he caught up to him.

“I'd rather not go back to mine either,” he said. “Would you like to get coffee or something?”

Sebastian looked down at him and lifted an eyebrow. After a moment, he nodded and a small smile flitted across his features.

“I'd love to.”


	14. Chapter 14

“It's the brother,” Sherlock said decisively. “He was stuck in a jealous rage. That emotion we saw wasn't pain. It was guilt.”

  
Greg nodded and sent out someone to make the arrest. He turned to Sherlock, whose hands were shaking. He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, gaining his attention.

  
“How are you holding up?” he asked. Sherlock took a breath and faked a smile. Okay, something was definitely wrong.

  
“I'm fine,” he said softly. “Don't worry about me.”

  
Greg was unconvinced and would have said as much had Sherlock's phone not dinged. The detective turned to dig it out of his pocket and scowled down at the message.

  
“Moriarty has gotten himself into some trouble. John's staying there to help,” he said, shoving his phone into his pocket. Greg put his hands on his hips as he studied the other. Just before Sherlock could leave, he moved to grab his arm.

  
“Where do you think you're going?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  
“I think I know who attacked Moriarty,” Sherlock said easily. “I'm going to pay him a visit.”

  
Greg lifted an eyebrow and let his arm go. Sherlock gave him a curt nod and turned with a ruffle of his coat.

  
There was only one person that would want Moriarty injured. Or dead if the injuries John reported were to go off of. That would know he's alive anyway. After all Moriarty had many enemies but this one was the most powerful.

  
Sherlock made his way to his brother's office, not even bothering with any formalities as he chuckled walked past his secretary. Mycroft looked up slowly, giving a tired sigh when he saw Sherlock.

  
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Sherlock walked towards his desk and clasped his hands behind his back.

  
“Moriarty is alive,” he said casually.

  
“I am aware,” Mycroft responded. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  
“He was attacked yesterday. He was beaten and stabbed. I'm sure whoever did it expected him to bleed out,” Sherlock continued. He paused for dramatic effect as he turned to face Mycroft, who just looked back at him in annoyance. “I haven't seen the injuries but I'm sure the stab wound would be the exact type that I've seen your men use.”

  
“Are you implying that I had something to do with it?” was the tired reply.

  
“Oh I'm not replying it. I'm saying it.”  
Mycroft sighed and stood up, hands flat at the desk as he locked his gaze on the detective.

  
“He's a criminal, Sherlock,” he said decisively. “He's threatened the safety of this country. I can't allow him to walk around like he owns the place again.”

  
“I can assure you that that is not the case,” Sherlock said. He placed his hands on Mycroft’s desk and the brothers glared at each other.

  
“Why do you care, Sherlock?” he snapped. “Moriarty forced you to kill yourself. He's the reason you were separated from John for three years.”

  
“He's changed, Mycroft! We've both…” Sherlock trailed off and swallowed thickly. “We've come to an agreement. He's told me himself he has no intentions of continuing things from before the fall.”

  
Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. Suddenly, Sherlock was a child being scolded for ruining his brother’s homework. He didn't shrink back, holding Mycroft's gaze.

  
“You didn't answer the question, Sherlock. You've actually evaded it,” he said. “Why do you care?”

  
Sherlock swallowed nervously and he finally looked away.

  
“Let's just say he's fundamentally important to John's happiness,” he said. Mycroft finally backed off and studied his younger brother. He always wore his heart on his sleeves when it came to John. Finally, he gave a sigh and sat down.

  
“Can you tell me for certain that he's no longer trying to bring the nation to its knees?” he asked calmly. Sherlock looked at him and nodded slowly.

  
“He told me himself. I have more to believe he was telling the truth than otherwise.”

  
“Then I'll leave him be. He no longer has to worry about me coming after him.”

  
Sherlock gave a nod of acknowledgment and then turned to leave. Where was he going? He had no idea. Not his flat.It was too empty. Definitely not Lestrade’s. He'd ask too many questions. And where he knew John to be… That was completely out of the question. He shook his head. He'd figure it out in a little bit.

  
With nothing elseto occupy his mind, he allowed it to drift back to the conversation with Mycroft. He truly believed that Jim had changed. After all, they were more alike than not. And Sherlock had changed for John's happiness.

  
Hasn't he?


	15. Chapter 15

The day was perfect. Well, nearly perfect. There wasn't any wind, there were lights strung up in trees, and the clouds in the sky didn't look at all menacing. The perfect day for a wedding.

  
“Stop fidgeting, tiger,” Jim said as he helped Sebastian straighten out the tux. He was squirming and Jim smacked his shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. “You look fine.”

  
“I feel like I can't breathe,” the ex sniper replied. He turned to face the mirror and adjusted his tie.

  
“You're fine. Just pre-wedding jitters,” Jim said. Sebastian looked over his shoulder at him and slowly nodded.

  
“You're right. Of course you're right,” he sighed. “I just… I never thought I'd see a day like this. Especially when I started working for you.”

  
“Well, I did put that bit in your contract about no personal ties,” Jim said. Sebastian gave him a smirk as he faced him.

  
“Apparently that didn't mean the boss,” he said cockily. Jim rolled his eyes.

  
“I can break my own rules, tiger,” Jim said. He dusted a nonexistent piece of lint from his own tux. “Now, are you prepared to meet your soon-to-be husband at the alter?”

  
Sebastian cast one last look towards the mirror and gave a small nod. He never expected to be able to reach this sort of day. Here he was, dressed in a stuffy tux. He'd barely been able to wear suits Jim was so fond of. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do this.

  
He took a deep breath.

  
“I'm as ready as I can get.”

  
Across the way, Sebastian's fiancé was messing with the cuffs of his tux. Finally Sherlock grabbed his hand and fixed them for him.

  
“Thanks,” John said, looking down at his sleeves. He sighed and stood in front of the mirror for several seconds. “How do I look?”

  
“Radiant,” Sherlock answered distractedly. John gave him a look as he looked up. “Was that the wrong answer?”

  
John rolled his eyes.

  
“Never mind that,” he said. He faced Sherlock and wrung his hands. Today was the day. “When do we start again?”

  
“At five exactly,” Sherlock answered. John looked at his watch. Four minutes.

  
Vanity forced him to look in the mirror again. This wedding was just a formality, of course. He and Sebastian would have been more than happy to just go and sign a marriage certificate. This was much more nerve-racking.

  
“John?” came Sherlock's voice. John turned to face him. He stared up at those blue eyes and, just for a second, he considered he was marrying the wrong man. But just for a second.

  
“I think… we should go now,” he finally said. Sherlock nodded slowly, almost hesitatingly.

  
The wedding went off without a hitch. John and Sebastian, though nervous, were able to say their vows perfectly, without so much as an “um”. Finally, it was time for their first kiss as a married couple.

  
Their lips met and applause went through the crowd. They pulled away slowly, both dazed from the kiss. Sebastian had the goofy smile he would have when he looked at John and John, well, his eyes held all the emotion he'd ever felt for the man in front of him.

  
It was then that they realized that white flakes of snow were beginning to drift to the ground. They looked up as the graceful specks came down. One landed perfectly on John's nose and Sebastian looked down at him, biting his lip to stifle a laugh. Though when he wiped it away, the fully grown men both broke into giggles.

  
Jim and Sherlock had no eyes for the snow, instead fixed on the two figures in front of them. With a look, they shared the heartbreak they both felt. But John and Sebastian were happy. That was the important part.

  
Wasn't it?

  
As the reception began, Sherlock and Jim stood apart from the crowd as Sebastian and John walked and talked among the guests.

  
“Horrible things, weddings,” Jim said. He wasn't even looking around, his eyes riveted to the happy couple.

  
“Indeed. So...dull,” Sherlock said. He didn't even notice where Jim was looking, his eyes fixed to the same point.

  
“We could always cause a scene. I'm sure a murder would liven things up considerably.”

  
They exchanged glances, an entire conversation passing in a look. They both knew who the other wanted gone. But they'd never go through with it. They wouldn't be able to bear the consequences it caused.

  
Besides, today was a happy day. Or say they were told. They'd promised to be on their best behavior. No murders, no cases, no working. A day amongst friends and family.

  
What agony.

  
Jim sipped from the wineglass that was in his hand and hummed thoughtfully. Sherlock didn't even look at him.

  
“You know, Sherlock,” he drawled. “With them being married and more than likely starting a family, both of us will be looking for new flatmates.”

  
That gained Sherlock's attention. He looked down at Jim with an odd look of surprise on his face. Though his eyes almost immediately narrowed.

  
“You're not really suggesting what I believe you are, are you?” he asked. Jim looked up at him innocently and then emptied the glass of wine. He set it on a server’s tray as they walked past and then watched as they nearly gave the empty glass to someone.

  
“You say that like it's unreasonable,” Jim said. He looked up at Sherlock with that bored expression on his face. “I don't see why you'd think so.”

  
“You know precisely why, Jim. You and I… _living together_ ,” he said. He looked appalled at the mere thought of it. “It'd be disastrous.”

  
“I've sworn off crime, remember? You're still so boring, Sherlock. I have nothing to go towards. I want a nice quiet life now.”

  
Sherlock would have argued the point further when they were ushered forward. It was time for the best men to make their speeches. They looked at each other, the daunting task of public speaking uniting them once again.

  
Sherlock stood up slowly…

  
His eyes snapped open with a gasp. Above him was the cracked ceiling of wherever he was right then. He could feel it, thrumming under his skin, racing through his veins.

  
Just when he was getting to the good part too. Him talking about John. He groaned and rolled over to look at the blasted thing that had broken his concentration.

  
His phone, chirping his message tone. He moved to grab it, squinting at the message.

  
_Where are you?_

  
From John. What could he say? Sherlock sighed. He put the phone back down and rolled over again.

  
There wasn't anything he could say.


	16. Chapter 16

Five days. That's how long it had been since anyone had heard from Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson had said he had been home a few days before leaving without a word, Greg hadn't heard from him since he helped with the case, and Mycroft had been much too “busy” to help look for him. Though John suspected he knew where Sherlock was.

John found himself getting anxious as the days passed. He tried to distract himself, between work and planning a wedding. But it never worked. Though he refused to believe that until it was pointed out.

“You haven't heard a word I said,” Sebastian's voice suddenly came, cutting through John's thoughts. He looked up at his fiancé and blinked slowly.

“Oh, I-I'm sorry, love,” he said. “I just… It doesn't matter. What did you say?”

“I asked what your plans for the day were,” Sebastian said gently. He reached over and put his hand over John's in his mug, a small understanding smile on his face. “I know you're worried about him. Jim still has a small spy network in place. I could…”

“No, no. It's fine,” John said. “I don't want you to get mixed up with them again.”

Sebastian nodded slowly and kissed him. A brief pressing together of lips that still held that spark. He brushed some of John's hair from his face as he looked at him, a simple sad look.

“I'm sure you're more than capable of finding him,” he said.

“His brother can't even find him,” John sighed. “How am I supposed to with no resources and no time?”

“Don't be so sure. Maybe his brother knows something he isn't telling you,” he said gently. “Maybe he's safe.”

“There's only one reason I can think of that Mycroft wouldn't tell me where he is,” John said. “And that better not be the reason.”

Sebastian watched him for a second and nodded slowly. He wasn't surprised by the behavior. Had John been more like him, he'd have been out looking for Sherlock and would have dragged him back if he had to. Thankfully, he was nowhere near Sebastian's temperament.

Suddenly, John stood up, pushing his cup of coffee away. Sebastian stepped back surprise and was suddenly caught in a loving kiss.

“I have to go to work,” he said. “I'll see you when I get off. I love you.”

“I love you too,” was the reply. “Have a good day.”

John gave a fatigued smile, the only one he seemed capable of anymore. He kissed Sebastian's cheek once more and then left, leaving Sebastian staring after him and worrying.

After a few moments, he heard a noise come from Jim's room. At first he dismissed it merely as Jim's odd ticks. But then it came through the flat again, a distinctive cry of distress. Then it came a third time and he heard his name being cried out.

Sebastian wasted no time in rushing to the room, pushing open the door and hoping he wouldn't regret doing so.

Jim was curled in the bed on his side, a pained expression on his face. Sebastian wasn't sure whether it was from his wound or the nightmare he seemed to be experiencing. Sebastian was frozen in horror as he watched Jim twitch and jerk, pained groans leaving his lips.

“Please… stop. Please,” he said, voice so broken that it almost moved Sebastian to tears. “H-help. Sebastian!”

That pulled Sebastian from his reverie and he rushed to the bed, moving to pull Jim into his arms. He held him tightly and blood from Jim's freshly opened wound soaked his shirt and the sheets.

“Jim, wake up,” he said, shaking him gently. Tears stung his eyes. What had happened to Jim to cause this torment? “Come on, boss, wake up. It's just a dream. Jim!”

Finally, Jim was pulled back to consciousness with a shout and he struggled to get away from Sebastian, who could only pray he didn't hurt himself more than he already was.

“Jim, hey, it's me. You're okay. It's Sebastian,” he said, keeping his voice even and soothing even while a tear slipped down his cheek. Jim finally looked up at him with wide, fear filled eyes.

“Sebastian?” he said in a quiet whisper. Before a response was given, he clung to Sebastian with all the intensity of a dying man. His body shook from sobs and his hands gripped tight to Sebastian's shirt, holding him like he might disappear at any given moment.

“I've got you,” Sebastian said, his arms wrapped around Jim gently. “I've got ya, Jim.”

They stayed there for several moments, wrapped up in each other and Jim struggling to get his senses under control. Finally, Sebastian stood, cradling Jim in his arms.

“We need to fix you up again,” he explained as he carried him towards the bathroom. He sat Jim on the counter and gently brushed his damp hair from his sweaty forehead.

He began with pulling off Jim's blood stained shirt, ignoring his own for now. He couldn't help the way his heart clenched whenever Jim winced as he cleaned the wound. Finally, as he bandaged it, he looked up into Jim's brown doe eyes as they watched him closely.

“How are you feeling, boss?” he asked, voice hushed because of how close they were. Jim didn't even blink, one hand coming to rest on Sebastian's cheek.

“Better,” came the soft reply. Then their lips touched.

The kiss was like a glass of clear water after being in the desert. Three years of love passed between them, tears coming to Jim's eyes again. Sebastian's hands came up to hold Jim's face, his eyes falling shut. It seemed like it would never end…

Finally, Sebastian pulled away and stared at the other with wide blue eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Jim said, voice thrashed. “I just…”

“I should go try to get the blood from our clothes and the sheets,” Sebastian said in a perfect monotone. Then he left Jim sitting there. As alone as he felt.


	17. Chapter 17

It had been a long day for John. Worrying, work, struggling against the pull of sleep. He was more than ready to get home and curl up with Sebastian and some crappy show on television.

He wasn't even a quarter of the way home when his phone rang. He sighed with a small glance to caller ID. He didn't recognize the number.

“Hello, Mycroft,” he said.

“I understand you've been looking for my baby brother,” came the smooth voice. John rolled his eyes. “He seems to have gotten himself into trouble. I need you to fetch him.”

“Why me?” John asked in exasperation.

“You're the only person that he'll listen to right now, I'm afraid,” he said. John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Alright. Where is he?”

Moments later, John walked into the empty building, the noise from that familiar room coming out to meet him. He pushed open the door, gaining the other occupant’s attention.

“Ah. My flatmate,” Sherlock said. He looked almost ill. His eyes were red, either from tears or whatever cocktail was pumping through his veins John had no idea. “You're wondering how I knew that, aren't you?”

John gave him a hard look and walked through the lab towards the detective. Sherlock watched him a moment, stepping back from the look in his eyes. Suddenly John punched Sherlock, his fist coming in contact with his perfect cheekbones.

“Five bloody days, you sodding idiot!” he said. “Five days without a word on where you were and I find you in the morgue high as a bloody kite!”

Sherlock put his hand to his cheek as he stumbled back, staring at John with wide eyes. John advanced, grabbing the collar of his shirt and hauling him forward. The only thing Sherlock could do was try to stay on his feet as he stumbled after John.

“We're getting you back to the flat to get you cleaned up,” he snarled. Sherlock tried to get away, finally succeeding and falling backwards from his own momentum.

“No,” he rasped out, suddenly sounding as if he hadn't had a drink in days. He looked up at John with tears. “I-I can't go back.”

“What are you talking about?” John demanded. “Of course you can go back.”

“You don't understand, John,” he said, standing up. “The emptiness, the quiet. It's driving me insane.” He turned and threw his arms wide dramatically, indicating the whole of the morgue. “Now _this_. This is where I can be. Back at the start, before I became weak.”

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” John asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Sherlock didn't turn to him, letting his arms and head drop.

“For a figment of my imagination, you sure don't know a lot about how my head works,” came the meek voice. John's eyes widened in realization but it seemed that Sherlock hadn't finished. “Before I met you. The _real_ you. John. I could survive before him. I tried to do it again, for three years I tried, but that was easy then. When I had the thought of coming home to him.”

Sherlock finally turned to face John, tears in his eyes once more. One traced a path down his cheek, cutting through the grime and dirt and showing the neglect he'd given himself. John's mouth went dry and he stepped forward to put his hands on Sherlock's cheeks. He'd never seen Sherlock cry like this.

“Sherlock…” he began. Sherlock closed his eyes, putting a hand over one of John's.

“I've lost him again,” came the quiet whisper. The tears came without check and John watched as he all but collapsed in on himself, dropping his head in his hands and falling to his knees.

John bent to put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, making him lift his head. The look in Sherlock's eyes, the devastation and loss he held there, made John's breath catch in his throat.

“You haven't lost anyone,” he said in a soft voice. “You idiotic sod. You have everyone you had before…” He stopped and swallowed. “And I'm really here.”

“John…” he said in a wrecked voice. The drugs running rampant in his system and the raw emotion and the apparent shock of seeing John again finally seemed to take his toll. His eyes rolled back and slipped closed and his body slumped, falling to the side. John barely had time to catch him before his head hit the floor.

“Sherlock? Sherlock!” John cried. He knew it was no use but he had to try. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, wishing this was some horrible nightmare, and then looked around, knowing that no one was there but instinct prompting him to look for help. Finally, he got to his feet, pulling Sherlock up with him.

He struggled under the weight for a moment before he finally was able to straighten up. He needed to get Sherlock back to the flat.


	18. Chapter 18

The battle back to consciousness wasn't an easy one for Sherlock. He could hear John calling for him but he was caught in that dark place between unconsciousness and waking. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening. He could tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't but still he could feel the fear and pain surge through him.

Where was he? Not the morgue. Hadn't he gone to the morgue? Or had that been a dream? Had John been there? Was he here now? What was happening?

Sherlock was finally able to push his way to consciousness, a large gasp escaping him as he opened his eyes. He sat up, only for an overwhelming dizziness to assault his senses. He blinked for a moment, only to realize that he was once again staring at the ceiling. He'd fallen back then, it seemed.

Something was resting on his chest and he lifted a hand to place it over whatever it was. Someone's hand. His eyes moved to look for whoever it was and his eyes fell on John's eyes. So he was there.

“John…” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“You're an idiot,” John said, managing to sound furious and sad at the same time. “What were you thinking? You're ruining yourself, Sherlock.”

“I'm still alive, aren't I?” Sherlock asked, eyes falling shut for a moment. Suddenly, John's hand came in contact with his cheek, a loud smack resounding through the room.

“You're barely alive,” he snapped. Sherlock looked up at him. “Do you give any thought to what this is doing to everyone who cares for you? You're killing yourself all over again, Sherlock.”

He had tears shining in his eyes that he refused to let fall but Sherlock noticed them. A dagger of guilt stabbed through his chest and he nearly gasped as the weight of it settled in his chest. But John looked away from him, allowing it to ease enough to allow him to speak.

“I-I'm sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice. John looked back at him and Sherlock was rendered mute once again as bright blue pierced through him. Sherlock had to look away, his own eyes closing.

“Sorry doesn't cut it, Sherlock,” he hissed. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “I'm going to call Sebastian and get some tea.”

He left the room with a slam of the door that made Sherlock flinch. John marched towards the kitchen, putting the kettle on and leaning against the counter, scowling at the fire under it. After he was able to calm down, he got his phone and began calling Sebastian.

The phone rang twice and then there was a knock at the door. He sighed and went to answer it, not expecting to find his fiancé standing there with a sheepish expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, allowing Sebastian to come in. The man just shrugged and looked around for a moment.

“I got antsy just being home with him,” he answered. “So I thought I'd come see how you were doing.”

He looped an arm around John's waist and pulled him closer. John rested his forehead against Sebastian's shoulder, letting out a sigh.

“I don't know how I'm doing,” he answered honestly. “Sherlock is just so- infuriating... but I can't just abandon him.”

“I know,” Sebastian said gently. John just stayed with Sebastian, wrapped up in each other's arms. John was grateful that Sebastian was so understanding.

Finally, the whistling of the kettle went off and John sighed, pulling away from his fiancé reluctantly. Though when he turned to go back, his phone began to ring. He checked the caller ID quickly.

“It's work,” he said with a sigh.

“Answer it. I'll prepare tea to take to Sherlock,” Sebastian said gently. John looked up at him and nodded. He kissed him gently and went to the other room to speak with the person on the other line.

It was then that Sebastian let his shoulders drop and the guilt he'd been trying so hard to keep at bay finally flooded his expression. After a moment, he schooled his expression once more and went about making a cuppa.

When Sebastian pushed open the door to the room, Sherlock turned to look at it. “John, I… Oh. It's you.”

The tone in his voice was thick with disdain, an accusation that Sebastian knew he was guilty of. But they both knew Sherlock was just as guilty, a sorrow in the detective’s eyes.

Sherlock accepted the cup from Sebastian, studying him. The bags beneath his eyes, the guilty quirk of his mouth, the furrow of his brow, and the tension on his shoulders. Something was wrong.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked, his own voice surprising him. Sebastian looked at him in surprise, the expression mixing with the guilt and fatigue. “I know something did. What was it?”

“Why should I tell you?” Sebastian asked, straightening his shoulders defensively. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Tell me or don't. Your choice. But I could always let it slip to John that you're keeping something from him,” he said nonchalantly. Sebastian looked down for a moment, weighing his options.

Should John ask about what he was keeping from him, he wouldn't be able to lie. He could never lie to John. It was a weakness that had surprised him greatly. He'd even been able to lie to Jim. Not well but he still could.

“Jim and I…” he began. He stopped, Sherlock’s piercing eyes turning to him. He looked down again, a hand coming to his lips.

“You kissed.” It wasn't a question and Sebastian could only nod.

“But that's it,” he said, voice harsh and decisive. “And it'll never be happening again.”

Sherlock studied him, regret and guilt and condemnation evident on his face. He was punishing himself for this. And harshly. He most likely would until the day he died.

“Don't tell John.”

The plea broke through Sherlock’s thoughts and he stared at Sebastian. It shouldn't have surprised him but there was something about it being said aloud that solidified it. Sebastian didn't want to hurt John.

In the end, Sherlock only nodded. He wouldn't tell John. He deserved the artificial happiness of all this.


	19. Chapter 19

Both flats were quiet. Sebastian had taken John to dinner, knowing the both of them needed it. They needed to get away. They needed to talk. It didn't need to be said between them but they were both experiencing cold feet.

Both flats were quiet. And one was empty.

Jim stood in front of the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee delicately. Bandages still graced his side, his shirt discarded on the side of the bed. He didn't turn as the door opened, knowing well who was coming into the flat.

“Shouldn't you be in bed?” Sherlock asked, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen. Jim didn't look at him, setting aside the spoon he'd been using to stir and lifting the cup to take a sip.

“Bed is boring,” came the reply finally. He finally looked back at Sherlock. “Do you want some coffee?”

“I think I'll pass. Caffeine is a notorious drug, after all,” he said, stepping into the room. Jim cracked a smile at that and turned to face Sherlock fully, leaning against the counter. “I heard they weren't sure they're getting married anymore.”

“I heard the same,” Jim said, a mad sort of glee curving his mouth. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, cocking his head. “Oh come on, Sherlock. You feel the same as I do. You want John.”

“I want John to be happy,” he responded. “And I thought you wanted the same for Sebastian.”

“I do,” Jim said defensively. “But I want him to be happy with me.”

He looked away, lifting his cup again. The silence was the loudest Sherlock had ever encountered. He studied Jim, eyes moving over the contours of his face and chest and finally settling on the bandages that covered the stab wound that had been caused by Sherlock's brother, his own flesh and blood. He gave a tired sigh and looked down.

“Don't we deserve to be happy?”

It was spoken so softly that Sherlock wasn't even sure he'd heard it. But one look to Jim told him that he had spoken those broken words. It made something in Sherlock ache with want. He wanted to be happy, wanted John. But he knew he couldn't have either.

“We faked our deaths and hurt the men we love. We don't deserve anything but the pain we have now,” he replied. Jim's head turned and deep brown met stunning blue as they locked eyes. The same feelings warred in Jim's expression as Sherlock felt in his chest. “You know I'm right, Jim.”

A sigh escaped Jim's lips as he turned away.

“If you're not going to have coffee, might I make you some tea? I need to be a good host, after all,” he said languidly. Though he was already moving to the kettle, anticipating Sherlock’s acceptance of the gesture.

“Sebastian told me.”

Jim froze. Sherlock stepped closer.

“What did he tell you?” he asked in an airy detached voice. Sherlock couldn't see his face but he could tell how tense that made him. He arched a brow, tilting his head as he looked Jim over. He was tense, body language telling him he was much more defensive than Sebastian had been.

“You know very well what I'm talking about, Jim,” he said, stopping just behind him. Jim didn't move.

“Is he going to tell John?” he asked, voice low and harsh.

“No.”

The grim silence that settled over the room was broken only by a loud sob coming from the criminal. His head dropped and his shoulders sagged.

“We really have lost them, haven't we?”

The words hit Sherlock like a shot to the chest. He looked away quickly. Jim was right. Why must he have been right.

“I'm afraid so,” he said in a bare whisper. “We have.”

Several moments passed and Jim finally straightened up. He turned to face Sherlock, a resolved expression on his face. The shift in the air made put Sherlock on edge as he looked down at Jim, trying to get a read on what he felt.

“They do deserve happiness,” he finally said. “And if they give each other that, then we'll just have to be grown up and face it.”

Sherlock hesitated but finally gave a nod. He knew neither of them were happy with the outcome but the happiness of Sebastian and john would come first. It always would.

“They may not be so sure of the wedding but you and I know they're the only ones that could truly make them happy,” Sherlock added. “They'll get married.”

Jim nodded, his jaw set. They could be adults and deal with the loves of their lives moving on. Even if it killed them. And who knew. It just might.

Jim finished off his coffee while Sherlock made tea. They moved to the living room and sat, Jim on the couch with his legs crossed primly and Sherlock on a chair with his hands steepled beneath his nose. Finally, a thought entered Sherlock’s head that he almost dismissed as ludicrous.

“They'll be wanting a flat of their own,” he began, breaking the companionable silence. Jim looked at him, lifting an eyebrow as he waited for Sherlock to explain further. “And I don't fancy living alone. And I know you don't either.”

“Just get to the point, Sherlock,” he sighed. “You know how I hate beating around the bush.”

Sherlock gave him a disbelieving look but continued nonetheless.

“Would you want to move in to 221b?” he asked.

The stunned silence was something he expected. Jim narrowed his eyes at him, trying to determine if he was serious.  
  
Move in with Sherlock? Now there was a thought! He nearly laughed out loud when he realized that the detective was indeed serious. That was one of the most ridiculous things he'd ever heard. He almost started laughing again when he realized he was seriously considering it. He must be mad. They _both_ must be.

“Yes,” he finally said. “It'd be better than living alone, that's for sure.”

Things went silent again as they were each lost to their own thoughts. Sherlock could practically feel Jim's eyes on him and he looked up to meet liquid brown. He could only wonder as a moment passed between them. Things, they both knew, were going to change drastically. But, for better or worse, neither had a clue.

They were still studying -because that was what they resolved to refer to it- one another when the door to the flat opened and John and Sebastian stepped in. A smile was etched across John's face and Sebastian had that look about him. The one that screamed happiest man in the world.

“We're getting married,” John said.

Sherlock and Jim faked smiles.


	20. Chapter 20

The day was overcast. Clouds covered the sky and a very dark shadow resided over the wedding. Whispers could be heard around the garden, speaking lowly of the hopes that it wouldn't start raining. There was no wind, thankfully, so the hopes that it wouldn't be a storm were strong.

“It'd be a shame for the wedding to be rained out,” Mrs. Hudson said to Molly. “They were so excited to get on with it.”

“John and Sebastian?” Molly asked, looking forward at the tall blond assasain that stood nervously.

“No, John and Sherlock,” came the reply. “It was such a strange sight. Sherlock bustling about and speaking so fondly of them. Just the day before he'd been moping about.”

“He isn't like that around John,” Greg put in as he took a seat beside the ladies. “Have ya noticed that? I'll see him looking to pinnacle of defeat one minute and the next he'll be just his usual self all because John came in.”

“He doesn't want John to know,” Molly said, looking back to see Sherlock fussing over John. “He loves him but he's letting him go. He wants John to be happy.”

“Such a pity,” Mrs. Hudson sighed. “I always thought that John's wedding would be Sherlock’s too. I do hope there isn't a funeral anytime soon.”

Nothing more needed to be said. They all knew what she meant. She dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex produced from a purse and sniffled a bit. They knew the occasion was meant to be a happy one but a look to either best man and you could see the turmoil dancing behind their eyes.

Sebastian looked out over friends and family. Not one of them were his. The only friend and person close to being called family was Jim and he stood beside him, expression sullen and calculating. Guilt tugged at his heart and he swallowed, looking down with a sigh.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Jim whispered. Sebastian looked at him but he hadn't moved. He almost didn't answer. He didn't want to answer.

“No,” he said, voice quiet. “Never.”

Jim gave a hum. He was Sebastian's dirty little secret it seemed. But he wasn't given the chance to respond as the wedding began.

As time wore on, the knowledge of the incident weighed heavily on Sherlock’s mind. He watched John with sad eyes, mouth in a straight line. Should he tell? Should he hold his tongue? John would want to know. But…

Sherlock’s eyes flicked up to Sebastian. The expression on his face was one that must have been mirrored on John's. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't.

“If anyone has any reason that these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence for a second followed and Sherlock's legs stepped forward without his mind giving him consent.

“John,” he began. All eyes were on him now, even Sebastian and John's. He glanced to Sebastian, who was watching him with a clenched jaw and sad eyes.

“Sherlock…” John whispered and the spell broke. Sherlock looked down at him. Time stood still.

“Sebastian kissed Jim,” he said, voice soft and apologetic. Emotions flittered across John's face; confusion, shock, anger.

“I don't believe it,” he said in a quiet voice.

“John, I…” Sherlock began.

“I can't believe you. At my wedding.”

Sherlock realized with a shock that John was addressing him. The anger was directed at him.

“What?”

“You couldn't just let-”

“John,” Sebastian said, reaching out to grab his hand. John looked at him, his expression shifting into a sad one when he saw Sebastian's face. “John, he isn't lying.”

Silence fell over the crowd and eyes were on Sebastian. Jim stood behind him, looking stricken as he he stared at Sherlock. John didn't speak, didn't move, didn't blink for several moments. Then he ripped his hand from Sebastian's grip and tunened, walking back down the aisle.

“John, wait, please,” Sebastian said, moving to follow him. John stopped but he didn't turn. “Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” John snapped, turning to face them. “Did you kiss him?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“He kissed you?”

A nod this time.

“Did you kiss back?”

A hesitant nod.

“Do you still care for him?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, all eyes riveted to him. Though before he could form a response, John's shoulders squared and he clenched his fists.

“I hope you two will be very happy together,” he said, voice cracking at the end.

He stalked down the aisle and Sebastian's jaw clenched. He rushed after John, catching his arm.

“John, please. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. John ripped his arm away and glared up at him.

“Well that just makes this all the better, doesn't it?” he said with an almost growl. “Maybe if you'd told me, I'd have listened but you kept it from me, Sebastian. You were perfectly okay with keeping me in the dark because, what? You didn't want to deal with the consequences?”

“John, listen…”

“No, you listen. I should have known something like this would happen. Why couldn't I see it? I'm such an idiot,” John said, running a hand through his hair.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asked, looking bewildered. John glared up at him, jabbing a finger accusingly at his chest.

“You'd bend over backwards for him, wouldn't you? Such a perfect little dog,” he said. “Colonel Sebastian Moran, the greatest lapdog in London.”

“Now wait just a god damn second,” Sebastian said. “What about you? Following Sherlock Holmes around and giving him every god damn bloody compliment that crosses your mind. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

John's eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Guess this was never meant to be then,” he said. Sebastian stopped, shoulders slouching in defeat. What had they been working towards if not this?

“Guess not…”

John gave a brisk nod, already feeling the lump in his throat. The man he’d thought he loved with all his heart stood before him, that look in his eye that sent a stab of pain through John's heart. He'd seen it only a handful of times. When they first met, that day Sherlock came back, when Jim vanished, and now. He could see the tears sparkling in Sebastian's eyes and he had to turn away. This was the right thing.

“Goodbye, Sebastian.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.


	21. Chapter 21

John walked and walked until he felt he might explode from the emotions warring inside him. He stopped beside a pond and looked around at the greenery surrounding him. He had no idea where he was. Good.

He sat on a nearby bench, leaning back and watching ducks paddle around the water. Such carefree little things they were. They didn't have to worry about criminals or getting married or Sherlock Holmes. John had never in his life wished to be a duck but in that instant, he briefly wondered what a life like theirs would be like.

He felt the fool. He felt played and toyed with. He'd trusted Sebastian in a time when he barely trusted anyone. Maybe this had all been fabricated. An elaborate ruse to get his guard down so he could be destroyed emotionally. Again.

It was then that he came to the most ridiculous realization. He was still in love with Sebastian. He let out a sigh and leaned his elbows on his knees, dropping his face into his hands. He really was a fool.

“He really loved you, you know.”

John didn't even look at Jim. Jim sighed and put his hands in his pockets, looking out over the tranquil water and the ducks that occasionally quacked to one another.

“It isn't his fault.”

“I don't want to talk to anyone. Least of all, you. Go away,” John finally said. Jim rolled his eyes and sat on the bench beside him.

“Then don't. Just shut up and listen. I'm here for Sebastian, not you,” Jim said forcefully.

“Did he send you?”

“No. I don't even think he saw me sneak away. He was too distraught,” Jim said. John grunted in reply, arms crossed over his chest. “John, I know you've never exactly trusted me-”

“What reason did you ever give me to do that?” John interrupted, glaring over at him. Jim rolled his eyes.

“Have I ever lied to you? Even with the little games with Sherlock, did I ever go against my word?” he demanded, staring at John. John didn't answer. “That's what I thought.”

John just grumbled in reply and looked at the pond. The horrible thing was Jim was right. He'd never gone against his word in all the time John had known him. He thought back to the first time they'd met, when Jim had just been a silky voice in his ear. And now here he was, speaking in that voice that had narrated John's nightmares for a time.

“Just tell me what you want to say and leave,” John said, looking forward still. Jim looked at him and huffed before looking towards the pond.

“I kissed Sebastian,” he said bluntly and John almost made a sarcastic remark but he continued. “It was a vulnerable moment for both of us, me especially. He was being kind and I… I missed him.”

Silence passed between them for a moment and John looked over at him. Jim sat rigidly, arms crossed over his chest and jaw set. John clenched his jaw and looked away.

“He tried to keep it from me. How do I know he isn't keeping anything else?” he asked. Jim rolled his eyes and looked at him, expression dark and intense.

“Because Sebastian can't lie,” he said. “There was a reason I kept him quiet and behind the gun. He can't bluff or lie.”

The tone of Jim's voice confused John to no end. The words were soft but there was an angry edge to them, as if that had caused so much trouble for them. John had no doubt that it has.

“Sebastian…”

“Is in love with you,” Jim said forcefully. “Believe me.”

“But how do you know?” John asked. Frustration colored his voice. He of all people knew you could tell someone you loved them without meaning it.

Jim was quiet. A knot formed in his stomach and he knew that if he spoke, he could very well start crying. Again. How much has he cried over this? He couldn't believe what he'd become.

“The way he looks at you,” he finally said, voice soft and monotone. “He used to... look at me the same way. Like he'd follow you to end of the world and back again.”

Another pause, this one loaded with things that didn't need to be said.

“Trust me, John. He loves you more than anything.”

John looked at Jim, the ex criminal’s eyes shining with tears he wouldn't allow to fall. He wiped them away angrily and stood up, looking back at John.

“Do not let him get away, John. You're going to regret it if you do.”

Across the park, at the wedding that was waiting for John to reappear, Sebastian was staring forward in the direction John had gone. Sherlock stood behind him. They'd been silent for a good half an hour and Sherlock could practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

“Sebastian…” he began, stepping closer.

“I thought you weren't going to tell him,” Sebastian said, still unmoving. Sherlock pressed his lips together.

“You know why I had to,” came the reply. Sebastian's shoulders stiffened and he turned, his fist connecting with Sherlock harshly.

Sherlock stumbled back, bringing a hand up to his nose. He looked at Sebastian, raw emotion on his face. John's last shot at real happiness. He saw Greg step forward but he held up his hand to stop him.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian,” he said and Sebastian's jaw clenched as he looked away. “But we both know he deserved to know. He couldn't have been kept in the dark forever.”

“I know,” came the quiet response. “I just…”

“You didn't want to hurt him,” Sherlock supplied. He was surprised when Sebastian shook his head.

“It was for a much more selfish reason,” he said. “I didn't want to lose him. But I guess keeping it to myself did just that.”

“He'll come back,” Sherlock said. “He always does.”

Sebastian looked back at him, expression completely unreadable. How he managed that, Sherlock would never know. He nearly stepped back as Sebastian got closer.

“To you.”

“What?”

“He always comes back to you,” Sebastian said. Sherlock looked at him, easily meeting his eye. Finally he shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he said, looking away. “We all know you're the one he's been going to, Sebastian. He loves you more than he even knows.”

Sebastian stared at Sherlock, jaw clenched and shoulders tensed. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes and he angrily wiped them away.

“John doesn't love me. Not now anyway,” he muttered. Out of the corner of his eyes, he made out the shadow of Jim as he walked towards Sherlock. He couldn't look at him then and turned away.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian paused and turned to look at John, who looked as distraught as he did.

“John.”


	22. Chapter 22

The air was thick with tension. It could easily be sliced through as Sebastian and John stared at each other. John seemed hesitant and unsure as to what he was doing. He was the first to look away, looking towards Jim and Sherlock.

"John?" Sebastian said gently, hope glittering in his eyes. It looked out of place beside the apprehension. "John, I'm sorry. I don't-"

He fell quiet as John lifted a hand to stop him.

"You were right," he said, voice hard. Sebastian looked on in confusion for a moment. "I would have done it too. I... almost did, actually."

He glanced towards Sherlock, who had a look of faint surprise on his face. A thousand things passed between them and then John finally looked away, back to Sebastian. He took a deep breathe, meeting wide hopeful eyes. Sebastian Moran had never looked so innocent and vulnerable.

"But I know that I will only ever be happy with you in my life," he continued. He stepped closer, holding his hand out for Sebastian to take. "And I don't really want to try to live without you."

He moved to press their lips together, Sebastian's arms going around his waist. Of all the kisses they'd shared, this was the most desperate. They held each other like they were lifelines, like they'd die if they so much as loosened their grip.

Finally they pulled away when air became a necessity and Sebastian leaned their foreheads together. A small ghost of a smile was on John's face and he laughed, allowing himself to be swept into Sebastian's strong arms.

"So will you marry me, John?" he said, holding tightly to his arms. There was a light tone to his voice but his eyes were with uncertainty.

John looked up at him, eyes wide and unsure. He squeezed his hands where they were tangled in his jacket and slowly nodded.

The effect was instantaneous as a large grin spread across Sebastian's face and he drew his arms around John's waist, pulling him into a kiss that rivaled any seen in any movie or romance novel.

It wasn't much later that the reception took place. Those that had waited out the ordeal spoke quietly amongst themselves and few moved across the dancefloor.

Sherlock stood off to the side, watching the festivities with a perfectly neutral expression. Beside him was Jim with a much less neutral expression. He looked like he'd eaten something sour.

A sense of dejavu hung over Sherlock.

As the music turned so something slower, he looked around to where John and Sebastian stood, arm in arm as they headed forward to dance. He gave a sigh. They looked so happy and he couldn't bring himself to hate it.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a hand entered his field of vision. He blinked at the hand and then followed the arm to where it was connected to Jim, who was looking at him with a flat expression as he offered his hand.

"I want to dance once tonight," he said causally. "So dance with me."

There was a moment as Sherlock looked back down to the hand and hesitantly accepted it. Once on the dancefloor, Jim's hand rested on the small of his back as his own was placed on his shoulder, their other hands clasped together.

"I'm surprised that someone so tall and gangly can move to easily," Jim commented. Sherlock lifted an eyebrow, looking more amused than offended.

"I took lessons when I was younger," he said easily. "Who do you think taught John."

Both their gazes swept to the couple that seemed to be having issues dancing, Sebastian looking down at their feet occasionally and John struggling not to laugh.

"Lessons probably would have served Sebastian well," Jim commented as they looked back at each other. "Didn't think of it with all that happened. Being stabbed and all. You know how it is."

"Yes, it has been a very busy few months," Sherlock agreed. He clenched his jaw and looked aside.

"And yet after it all they were the only two with a happy ending," Jim said, looking back to the newlyweds. He looked back to meet Sherlock's eyes, seeing his own emotions reflected there.

"You know well that they deserved it," he said. "After all we put them through..."

"I'm aware, Sherlock Holmes," Jim said, almost harshly. He huffed and they stopped moving, instead just standing there still locked in each other's arms.

"We had an agreement, remember?" Sherlock said. "We're going to be grownups and face this."

Jim searched his face and gave a nod.

"Then we'll do it how we got into this mess in the first place," he said, chin held high and eyes dark. Sherlock could only furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

This mess had started all that time ago on that dreaded rooftop. Nearly four years ago. You'd think will all that time they'd mature but they barely had. And now, here they were, completely alone yet surrounded by people during the union of the loves of their lives.

There was only one way anyone could get through a time such as this, even a genius such as they were.

"Together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for the sequel! Mutual Trust!


End file.
